


media naranja

by Sugarbowl



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And love, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bodyswap, Bottom Im Jaebum | JB, Free will vs destiny, Friends to Lovers, GOT7_TAROT_19, Identity Issues, Love Is Magic, M/M, Magic, More like VERS 2 am i right, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sugar Daddy, Top Im Jaebum | JB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 16:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 65,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20067034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarbowl/pseuds/Sugarbowl
Summary: In the midst of a busy schedule, Jaebum and Jinyoung find themselves swapping bodies, and personal lives. And somehow, the body-swapping sex magic isn’t the most complicated or surprising part. It’s the feelings. Somehow, it’s always feelings.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! I'm excited to share something I've been working on for a little while.. a body swap fic! I'm not used to fantasy so I hope you guys will bear with me as I try this trope out and explore where it takes us.
> 
> When Joey suggested a tarot fic fest and I got The Moon (Upright: unconscious, illusions, intuition), I thought this would be a good place to pick this WIP back up and put a little more love into it. 
> 
> I'm thinking this should be about 5 chapters? Hope you guys enjoy, let me know what you think!

**Jaebum **

Jaebum hasn’t lived with Jinyoung for quite a while now. 

Sometimes, that distance can feel a little dramatic. As if they’re split in two, or just too far apart. 

It’s strange to think about, so Jaebum avoids it. Their relationship was never that intimate, so a healthy stretch of distance shouldn’t bother him.

Back when he and Yugyeom were touring for JUS2, and Jinyoung had been busy with his drama, it didn’t feel as noticeable, since they were both so occupied. 

Sure, it was strange. Especially debuting without Jinyoung by his side, for the first time. But they stayed in touch, and Jaebum knew they both thrived with a strong sense of direction.

Now, with all the members in town, practicing for a comeback and close to going on tour, things can feel spread a little farther apart than usual. The advantages of the dorm seem like a distant, daydreamy memory. 

To stay close, sometimes you have to work at it.

Jaebum knows if he pays Jinyoung a little extra attention, he’ll return it as support. He’ll beam back at him with gentle, warm energy. Which is what he needs for the polish of an album and the smooth teamwork of a comeback. 

So Jaebum makes sure to react well, makes sure they’re texting enough, makes sure to borrow and lend books and swap movie recommendations. It’s not as if he ignores him at other times — but this is the rhythm they’ve built up together, for promotions. This is how they  _ work. _

The space between Jaebum and Jinyoung has evolved. And it takes a bit of conscious, professional effort, on both their parts to make sure it stays comfortable. Maybe that’s stale, or maybe that’s insensitive. But it’s just ended up this way.

Back when they had worked on  _ Tomorrow, Today, _ Jaebum became increasingly aware of their energy. How they’d flickered in and out of each other’s spaces. How they’d turn their chemistry on and off, shuffling roles and personas for the group, for each other, and for their different circles of friends.

At that point, it had felt like he was seeing more of Jinyoung than he had in ages. In person, and personality. And that thought had been a little depressing.

But he had enjoyed that extra dose of Jinyoung. It was sort of like a reunion. Like he’d come back to a place he’d forgotten.

Of course, they’d never exactly been through a fundamental split. 

But their relationship had strained —  _ bent _ a bit, when JJ Project was shelved. 

Neither of them would ever blame each other for it, and it would be impossible to decipher exactly what management had been thinking. 

But Jaebum still carries plenty of guilt to this day; could he have done anything differently? Could he have been a better musician, a better employee, a better hyung?

Back before their first debut, Jaebum remembers their trainee dynamic: topsy-turvy, tumbling into each other as they tried to determine their stage personas. Inevitably, it was confusing. Trying to project more attractive versions of yourself — before you even know who you are — can be pretty disorienting.

And with JJ Project, Jaebum’s on-camera persona was cool, flirty, and a little aggressive. Which could come off in real life as just kind of an asshole.

On the other hand, Jinyoung had been working twice as hard to seem brighter and ditzier. Jaebum knew it wore him out. 

So sometimes they’d come back to the dorms, to the room they’d shared with Sungjin and a few others, exhausted. And they’d just  _ collide. _

__

In hindsight, Jaebum knows he was too stressed about his role. He’d worried if they would measure up, if they fit together, if anybody even cared about some dorky duo debuting. 

It was too much to bear alone, but it was also a little too uncomfortable to confide in one another. So there was a lot of lashing out.

If they weren’t bickering, they were nervous. Afraid. Unsure of what the future held and if it had room for both of them. So their younger relationship had its share of mood swings. From loud, sharp arguments, to moments where they were simply mired in insecurity. 

And when they’d make up, when they were getting along — it dipped into something almost saccharine. Warm and too sweet, like sugar into caramel. 

They’d nearly melt into each other sometimes, Jinyoung flopped next him late at night, after their roommates were asleep. Under the same cover, they’d just  _ think _ beside each other, so overwrought Jaebum was convinced he could hear their mental cogs ticking and grinding. Until exhaustion finally stole them to sleep. 

Their roommates would find them cozied up on some mornings. And it was embarrassing. That’s the thing — everyone just sort of  _ saw _ everything. The fights, the cuddling, and everything in between. It was all exposed.

Some of the senior artists had even teased Jaebum for being too gentle with Jinyoung. Sure, they fought, but at the end of the day, Jaebum would still be bundling him up in his own scarf as they went out with some of the other trainees. 

“Jaebum-ah,” one had cooed at him once in passing. “How will your little hubae ever learn to bring his own scarf?”

There were other comments too, that weren’t as kind about it. Other seniors who thought leadership was fueled by something like fear, who thought brotherhood was mostly bullying.

Still, Jaebum had lent Jinyoung his scarf almost up until the end, when they’d gone out drinking one night before their hiatus. They’d swayed against each other, pink-faced in the street, long after curfew.

“You’re shaking,” Jaebum had murmured, and he had swept the scarf around Jinyoung’s neck and chin sloppily. Then he’d knotted it with short, angry yanks, as if it’d teach him a final lesson.

“It’s fine,” Jinyoung had whined, tugging back, and then he’d wavered on one foot for a moment. Jaebum had wrapped a firm arm around him, even as he’d stumbled himself.

“I didn’t tie it too tight?” Jaebum had asked. “We don’t need you to catch cold.”

“No,” Jinyoung had said, face gone red and not meeting his eyes. “Feels good.”

Jaebum had tugged him back to their room, had helped him tumble into his bed, ignoring the sense of eyes on his back, the nosy, tense energy in their dorm.

“Feels good,” Jinyoung had murmured, nuzzling into his covers as he’d tugged at Jaebum’s wrist. “When you take care of me.”

Jaebum had felt a roaring in his ears, a twist in his gut. 

Jinyoung was really leaning into his cute role tonight, he’d thought to himself, and nearly smiled. 

But someone had let out a sudden, soft snort from across the room. Jaebum had straightened up so quickly at that moment, he’d hit his head on the upper bunk. 

Nobody piped up with anything further, so Jaebum had stepped back with a sigh, head pounding as he slipped his arm out of Jinyoung’s grip.

“Men should take care of themselves,” he’d said, quietly. “You need to learn not to drink so much.”

“Yes, I’m a man,” Jinyoung had whispered into his pillow, tucking his hands away. “And it feels good. You feel so good.”

Jaebum remembers — acutely — the sharp laugh from across the room. Jaebum had whirled around to glare out into the darkness.

It had frustrated Jaebum beyond understanding. Defensive, he remembers the hot flare of anger at the back of his neck. Was there a hint of disgust in that laugh? Why couldn’t Jinyoung admit it, if he liked being taken care of sometimes? Was there anything really wrong with it? 

Jaebum had been tired. Torn. There they were, in this  _ together. _ Their destinies intertwined, regardless of their differences. And he’d really  _ wanted _ to be good to Jinyoung. Their chemistry and complementary styles at the auditions had gotten them here. And if they tended to their relationship, maybe it could take them even further. 

But all around them, Jaebum had seen strange, uncomfortable signals. The way their peers judged them. The way he judged himself. 

Maybe he was too soft on Jinyoung. Maybe they both were too soft, too naive, period. That was the temperature at the company, and Jaebum had felt the need to echo that attitude or be seen as weak, too.

Things had come to a breaking point on another night, not long after. They had been sitting in Jaebum’s bunk, watching some period piece on Jaebum’s phone. They used to do this a lot, passing it back and forth between them as they picked movies, monitoring other group’s performances, and listening to music. 

They hadn’t been drinking that much, so Jaebum couldn’t really blame it on that.

Ankles were interlinked. Jinyoung was touchy. He was leaned up against Jaebum’s shoulder, fitted neatly and warmly. He was too close.

Jaebum can only remember glancing at him, away from the movie, for just a second. That’s all it had taken, to realize Jinyoung was watching him instead, eyes crescent and glassy with contentment. There had been a pointed shift in tone.

_ It feels good, _ Jaebum had remembered Jinyoung’s hazy words from the week before.  _ You feel so good, _ he had repeated the memory himself, staring into Jinyoung’s eyes. And then at the mole on his cheek, now long since removed for cancer concerns. The fuzz on his cheeks, trailing down from his sideburns.

Jinyoung had been touchy. That’s how he gets, when he drinks. (Now, Jinyoung doesn’t over-indulge quite as often as he had, that first year he could buy drinks. Or at least, he doesn’t do it around Jaebum anymore.) 

But back then, Jinyoung had run his fingers through Jaebum’s hair, had let his long fingers curl down along the edge of Jaebum’s jaw, like he was trying to memorize its angle. 

Then his hand had fallen away, and they’d just stared at one another, cheeks flushed and breath trembling. And there was something warm, something pulsing between them.

Jaebum couldn’t quite piece together what Jinyoung had been thinking. The question rang out between them, eyes suddenly heavy — dropping down to each other’s lips and back up again.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung had said, eyes glimmering.

“Hm?” Jaebum hadn’t been able to form words.

“How long will we be together?” Jinyoung had asked.

In retrospect, it feels a bit prescient — like he’d had some sort of premonition, as if he’d felt something tying them together. But Jaebum is pretty sure again: it had just been fear. Nerves, about their career. About the future.

“Always,” Jaebum had answered. 

Looking back now, he figures he’d said it just to make Jinyoung feel better. To make him feel good, to take care of him at the time. Like everything else. He had no way of knowing how long, how short, how much would follow.

But then: Jinyoung had tilted his chin up.

Jaebum still remembers being able to smell the beer on his breath as his lips had parted. He remembers his focus shifting all around Jinyoung’s small face, honing in on the distinct, lovely little mole on his mouth. And the feeling — the warmth that seemed to nudge at both their elbows, like a tide tugging them out from the safety of a shore.

Jaebum had turned his head, just barely, the tip of his nose brushing hesitantly against Jinyoung’s softly sloping one.

Neither of them had moved forward. Jaebum had just looked a little closer at him. Curious.

But then the movie soundtrack had spiked, violins swelling dramatically. And there was a slam, the familiar sound of the front door of their dormitory. In another instant, Jaebum calculated Sungjin or someone worse might find them.

So he had pushed away from Jinyoung, scooting back on the mattress.

“Don’t be such a baby about it,” Jaebum had murmured, hastily. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was like Jinyoung had immediately sobered up, eyes withdrawn and shuttered in silence. He had tucked his knees up as he pulled away from Jaebum, shoving his phone back at him.

Jaebum had sat there, numb with confusion, as Sungjin burst in. Jinyoung had asked him immediately about his vocal training, and Sungjin had been eager to complain.

The sudden rattle of conversation around Jaebum had set him on edge, but he didn’t know why. It felt like he and Jinyoung had left something unfinished. It had been the right choice, undoubtedly. But he still simmered with discomfort.

Jaebum had tried, specifically, to be rougher with Jinyoung from then on — or stone cold, depending on what suited their circumstances. He avoided Jinyoung mostly, keeping close to dancer hyungs and management, so they wouldn’t be left alone as much.

And Jinyoung, who used to talk back to him,  _ fight _ back with him, had started to just go quiet when the cameras turned off. Jaebum had started to worry about it, about this apathy, about the wedge driving too deep between them — but then JJ Project had been put on hiatus.

Maybe it was axed? Or maybe, as a Project, they were never intended for the long term, and JYPE decided they just needed a bigger boy group to be competitive. Jaebum still couldn’t exactly recall what had been said, at one of the worst meetings of his life. 

All he remembers was how Jinyoung’s form had slumped in his peripheral vision. Jaebum remembers, he hadn’t turned to look at him. He hadn’t been able to, too afraid of the way Jinyoung’s lips might be trembling.

There had been heartbreak then, of course.

But there was also, for Jaebum, a strange sense of release. 

A rush of freedom, and the twisted satisfaction of thinking it was what he deserved. They’d come too close, in his mind, to crossing an important line. Maybe this was the universe reinforcing that boundary.

Jaebum knows it couldn’t have been true. Nobody, not management and not some magical force, had known they’d almost kissed. Nobody had known he’d almost swayed in whatever strict, simplistic concept of sexuality he’d had back then. 

But he’d felt guilty and embarrassed anyway, and he’d tried to lock this memory away. It lived with the rest of his feelings about JJ Project’s first chapter, like a foreword that had somehow been lost in translation. Their own little apocrypha, not quite canon.

Jaebum had moved forward, and had tried to convince himself: if he made it into another group, if he was another leader, he’d do a better job. And he’d keep his feelings  _ straight. _

But fate just wasn’t done with them yet. 

When they were both chosen to join JYPE’s new boy group, and Jaebum to lead, it had been completely, utterly mystifying. Some sort of backwards kismet.

Honestly, Jaebum hadn’t been sure it was the smartest move, at the time. 

It almost felt like management was toying with them, giving them an ultimatum. Like if they couldn’t figure out how to work together, maybe they wouldn’t be allowed to work at all. 

But even backed into a corner, GOT7’s chemistry had changed the game. Jaebum struggled as a leader and a hyung in new ways. But this time around, instead of toughening up and icing them out, Jaebum had let his group get closer to him. 

And to his surprise — that made it all work.

He’d fumbled a little in the beginning. Jaebum was still a young man with a temper, and mistakes had to be made. Still, it was when he softened, when he really let them connect, that he saw growth. In himself, in the members, and in his relationship with Jinyoung.

That had taken a little longer. It wasn’t starting with a blank slate. Jaebum and Jinyoung had history, already, and that made things a little more complicated. 

They never exactly aligned in the same way again. But with time and distance, they had both matured. And slowly, they had synchronized in some ways, maybe fit together for the better. Like time had unravelled most of the knots in their thread.

And now, Jaebum just wanted to keep that connection clean. Simple, taut, and at a healthy distance.

Today, Jaebum’s returning a stack of books Jinyoung had lent him. They’ve been reading through some poetry together, exchanging notes in the margins for lyrics. It’s a good source of inspiration, and like Jaebum has come to expect, it’s a good way to keep Jinyoung involved with the process, by his side.

Jaebum’s plan lurches to a halt with an unexpected obstacle, when he rams a shoulder right up against the door of one of their usual offices. 

He’d turned the handle, expecting to step forward and let himself in. Instead, the handle sticks, and the full weight of his shoulder hits the wood, hard. He hisses at the surprise and the soft sting of impact, staggering back.

He rattles the handle again. It’s locked?

“Jinyoungie,” he says into the crack of the frame, “come get your books.”

It’s not totally silent beyond the door, Jaebum realizes. There’s a murmur of conversation — it sounds like Jinyoung’s speaking to someone on the phone.

_ Probably family, _ Jaebum thinks, about to pivot away. 

But then: Jinyoung gasps. It melts, into a panty, breathy sort of laugh, then. Low and quiet, rich and drawn out. “Hyuung~!” Jaebum hears Jinyoung simper, and his brain nearly short circuits.

There’s another moment of mumbling, rumbling from the phone’s speaker, the volume cranked up or maybe it’s even on speaker? And Jaebum still can’t decipher who it might be or what they say. But then Jinyoung’s laugh is low and soft again, and Jaebum wonders if he’s trying to sound…  _ sexy? _

Is that a giggle? Jaebum flounders for a moment, staring at the wood of the door and then hesitantly pressing his ear towards it.

Jinyoung is  _ murmuring—! _

“Ah, hyunggg!” Yugyeom’s sharper voice cuts abruptly through the moment. 

Jaebum jolts away from the door, fumbling with the books in his hand so they sit higher against his chest. Like a shield.

Mark and Yugyeom have both appeared in the hall, toting bags of takeout. They wear matching, teasing smiles, eyes sparkling. 

Jaebum isn’t sure if he totally trusts his members when they look too cheerful. 

And Mark and Yugyeom, who are pretty different in frame and style, wear similar oversized shirts and matching hats today. There’s just a moment of uncanny, suspicious rhythm in the way they turn their heads at the same angle, scrutinizing his expression. Jaebum’s reminded of the twins in _ The Shining. _

Jaebum feels nervous, inexplicably embarrassed even though he hasn’t been caught doing anything wrong.

“Have you eaten yet?” Yugyeom asks, lifting a bag.

“I brought some books, to trade with Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, as he takes another, safer step away from the room. He isn’t sure if he wants them to overhear what he’s heard or not. But maybe they would know what’s up. 

“I think he’s on the phone with someone…?” He says, and lets his voice trail off. Not quite in question.

“Oh,” Mark nods. “If it’s locked, he’s probably on the phone with his sugar daddy.”

Jaebum’s brain feels like it grinds to a complete stop. His — Jinyoung’s? Sugar daddy. 

Jinyoung?  _ Their _ Jinyoung?? Has a sugar daddy. And Mark not only knows about it, he just  _ blurts  _ it out?

Yugyeom giggles behind a hand, squirming in place. “Hyung,” he says. “How do you say stuff like that so easily.”

“What?” Mark asks, features relaxed. He glances between Jaebum’s flushed face and Yugyeom’s shy expression. “I mean... it’s just the truth is all? Jinyoung’s seeing another older guy right now. I don’t know who it is, but based on the car that gets sent, I’m pretty sure he’s loaded. It is what it is.”

Jaebum clears his throat, utterly bewildered. Jinyoung hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend lately. Or at all, he supposes. Let alone an older one or any… assets.

Jaebum shuffles farther from the door, hoping to corral them towards another recording room and onto other topics.

They follow along cheerfully, quick to unpack dinner. It spreads across a coffee table, and the warm aromas of sticky sweet and sour chicken, pan-fried noodles, and dumplings relaxes Jaebum’s nervous curiosity a little.

But Jaebum still mulls over it, unwrapping a set of chopsticks.

“Since when?” He asks, quietly. “The uh, the sugar daddy stuff.”

“This one?” Mark asks, and then hums in thought. “Maybe a month, or so.”

Jaebum’s lungs tighten.  _ This one? _ He wonders. There was another? Or: “How many—?” He chokes out.

Mark shrugs this time, around a mouthful of chicken. “I don’t know,” he admits, after some thoughtful chewing. “I know it hasn’t been anybody his own age, for a while.”

“But they’re not like —  _ really, really old, _ right?” Yugyeom asks, squirming. Jaebum is relieved he didn’t have to ask the same question, because he’d immediately thought it. 

“Nahh,” Mark says, waving his spoon with a frown. “I don’t think so. Jinyoung still has taste. But like, more experienced actors, you know?”

“Who?” Jaebum asks, before he can stop himself, and Mark looks at him slowly, critically. There’s a knowing gleam in his eye, and Jaebum tries to keep his expression slack. 

“I dunno, nobody too famous,” Mark tries to shift the focus. “I’ve probably already said too much. Jinyoung doesn’t make a big deal about it.”

Jaebum thinks, immediately, back to his ear pressed against the studio door, and the breathy voice, the soft whine he’d overheard. He nods numbly, accepting a big, proffered dumpling from Yugyeom. 

“Sure,” Jaebum says, teeth clumsy around the bite. “That suits him.”

//

Jaebum wakes up groggy, the next morning.

Head pounding, it takes him a while to sit up, wondering in a daze if maybe he’d drank too much the night before. 

But Jaebum doesn’t remember being drunk at all. He’d hurried back to his place after eating and having a few drinks with Mark and Yugyeom. Even though he’d meant to stay and record another few hours, he’d snuck out, hoping to avoid making awkward eye contact with Jinyoung. 

It’s not that Jaebum thinks it’s wrong.

He’s grown up — he’s more comfortable with his own boundaries and curiosities, and he accepts there’s obviously some spectrum of sexuality, flexible and fluid. Jaebum’s own identity still feels more static, but he’s stopped ruling some experiences entirely out.

And he doesn’t think Jinyoung has stayed chaste all these years. He’s certain all of GOT7 are familiar with phone sex, video calls, dirty texts, whatever it takes to date and flirt on the down-low. 

And honestly, Jaebum  _ has _ wondered before about his orientation. None of the basic information is surprising. 

But there’s something unsettling about Jinyoung having a sugar arrangement, and Jaebum can’t pinpoint why. Maybe Mark was just kidding? Maybe it was just an exaggeration?

Regardless, Jaebum had gone to bed hoping some of his feelings would be cleared up in the morning. 

Instead, he’s stuck with this throbbing pain in his temples, the topic still on his mind, and as he slowly opens his eyes and looks around the room, he starts to feel nauseous.

This isn’t Jaebum’s room. This isn’t Jaebum’s house.

But there’s something just familiar enough about it to be uncanny. To really turn Jaebum’s brain over in his skull.

His eyes land on a thin black scarf, with delicate white edging.

This is Jinyoung’s — Jinyoung’s everything — his bed, his array of clothing strewn about the room, his socks overflowing his hamper, a desk overwhelmed with mismatched books, undeveloped film canisters, and empty mugs.

The clutter alone would already give Jaebum a mild sense of anxiety, but there’s something else. 

Jaebum just...  _ feels _ different. The ratio of body to bed to floor is  _ wrong, _ as he sits up. And his one foot, the one panicked, spasming leg that shoots out from the tangle of sheets, is — it’s just not Jaebum’s. 

The toes are long, and his ankles feel different. There’s none of Jaebum’s flat-footed, bow-legged, alignment issues he’s grown up with. Instinctively, he knows he’s not as wide as usual. But he does feel…  _ tight. _

Jaebum runs a hand down his chest, and as his palm starts to skid through the sweatshirt into hard, individual abs, his breath stutters.

“W-what’s this?” He slurs out. Jaebum had tumbled into his bed last night with a lean body, for sure. But he didn’t have a six-pack. Wasn’t this  _ cut. _

Jaebum stumbles out of the bed and across the room, head throbbing as he grabs hold of the standing mirror in the corner. It’s tipped back under the weight of a heavy jacket. 

Jinyoung’s coat, Jaebum recognizes, watching as it wrinkles to the floor. Maybe he’d come and drank at Jinyoung’s the night before? Maybe he’d blacked out, and is just hungover.

He pivots the mirror upright.

Jaebum sees Jinyoung reflected back at him.

Jaebum’s breath stutters in his lungs, and he watches as Jinyoung’s chest hitches in his reflection, the breath synchronized with Jaebum’s. Jaebum — synchronized in Jinyoung’s body.

He takes a tiny, hesitant step closer to the mirror, face tilting along with his own curiosity, and there it all is. Jinyoung’s round eyes, blinking as he does. Jaebum’s mute, slack-jawed expression of utter confusion, played out on Jinyoung’s pretty face. His plush pink lips, rolling together as Jaebum tests them out.

And Jinyoung’s long fingers, coming up to smooth over the dark stubble along his jaw, his palm and fingers tightening around his throat, feeling it out just to be sure. Jaebum swallows, loud in the stillness of the room. And sure enough, Jaebum feels it under his fingers. The bob of an Adam’s apple. The flutter of a pulse.

His pulse. Jinyoung’s veins.

Jaebum leans back from the reflection, dizzy.

He feels like he’s bobbing along through waves of cold, seasick nausea, and he plops down in front of the mirror on his bottom.

This is... weird, to say the least. Frightening, even.

Should he scream? What is he supposed to  _ do? _

As a child, Jaebum would sometimes stare into his eyes in the mirror. Gazing deep into the darkness of his own pupils, he had wondered. How do I  _ fit _ in there?

But now, there’s a detached, singular sense of horror as he gazes into Jinyoung’s round, glazed eyes where he’s so used to finding his own. How did I get  _ in here? _ Jaebum wonders.

And... where is  _ his _ body??

His panic is interrupted by a loud buzzing, and Jaebum rolls toward the sound of it, scrambling onto his knees and chasing it across the room. He finds Jinyoung’s phone tucked under his pillow after a third ring, but it shifts to a missed call notification before he can figure out if he should answer it.

It takes another few beats to realize it’s unlocked itself seamlessly thanks to facial recognition — thanks to Jaebum  _ wearing  _ Jinyoung’s face. And then another moment to really read that it had been Kim Kwon calling.

Jaebum’s not  _ surprised, _ per se. If pressed to guess who Jinyoung’s  _ more experienced _ actor boyfriend might be, Kim Kwon would have been a safe bet. If only in terms of relevance.

_ This isn’t quite the time, _ Jaebum reminds himself. Not that it ever is. Not that it’s ever been his business. 

Stomach twisting, he lets out a breath of defeat. He has bigger concerns. What is going  _ on?? _ If this is a dream, it’s way too real. 

Jaebum presses his lips together, staring back down at the phone — the only thing seemingly grounding him at the moment. There’s a regularity to it; the weight of it in his hand, familiar apps and his own muscle memory. It makes sense when nothing else seems to. Not his body, not his surroundings. Just this phone.

But there’s an especially tight twist to his distress, now. He  _ really _ needs to talk to Jinyoung, he thinks. And if  _ he’s _ Jinyoung, how does he find the real one? Where did  _ he _ end up?

Jinyoung’s phone rings. A video call. Jaebum’s own face appears on the screen as the caller ID.

_ No fucking way, _ Jaebum thinks, as he taps to accept.

“Hyung,” says Jaebum’s own voice, thin and distant through the speaker. Jaebum’s face, his neck, his shoulders — digitally rendered on the screen as clear as day. And it’s a little familiar, as Jaebum has certainly seen himself on video before. In the mirror before. But this is still  _ different. _

“You...” says Jaebum’s face, pale and stretched thin. “Hyung, it’s me, Jinyoung. Are you — are you  _ you? _ Are you me?? Do you know what’s happening?”

Jaebum takes a moment to respond. To process.

Jinyoung is in  _ his body, _ and Jaebum is in his. There’s a lateral logic here at least, an equivalency to their situation.

And no, that’s not  _ normal. _ But at least it makes sense. At least it evens out, and the axis of his existence seems to straighten back out a little. They’ve swapped. 

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, and his voice comes out thick, heavy like Jinyoung’s early in the morning. Because it is. Jinyoung’s voice, out of Jinyoung’s throat. In the morning. “Jinyoungie,” he says, as his face on the screen clearly relaxes. 

Jaebum watches the blood return to his cheeks. And this is so strange, watching his own body behave so differently. On screen, Jinyoung places his fingers at his throat, touching his pulse in a nervous reaction that Jaebum’s body has never acted out. It’s an idiosyncrasy, and it looks strange in Jaebum’s hands, on Jaebum’s neck. But it must make Jinyoung feel more at home, where he is.

Jaebum touches a hand to the back of his neck now, and for a moment it comforts him, feeling familiar as he’s so used to grabbing Jinyoung’s nape. The short hairs at the back of his head, the flex of tendons and gentle warmth. 

They stare at each other, hands opposite, the same two souls in the same two bodies. Just wired wrong.

Jaebum and Jinyoung were often drawn in parallel. Tomorrow Today’s choreo played with that phenomenon, the way they reflected each other so often, the easy way they synchronized. 

But this is something completely different. And it doesn’t feel easy. Doesn’t feel  _ right. _

Yearning, Jaebum leans in closer to the phone. “Jinyoungie,” he says, voice warbling. “What’s going on?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, eyes glazed. “I don’t know,” he says. “Hyung, I have  _ no idea. _ Can you come here?” He asks. 

The phone pivots away, and Jaebum’s heart stutters as he loses sight of Jinyoung for just a second. He hadn’t realized how comforting it was to see his body, and to be aware that Jinyoung still... existed in some way. Nauseous, he notes Jinyoung’s surroundings as his own apartment. Of course.

Jinyoung reappears, expression tight again. “Hyung, can you come home?” He asks. “Can you come to your place — I think we should meet up?”

Jaebum is already rustling through Jinyoung’s clutter, looking for clothes that smell alright.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah I’m — I’m just gonna put on anything, is that okay?”

“There’s clean clothes in the closet and dresser,” Jinyoung says, and he laughs. It’s Jaebum’s laugh, a low sort of snort, but Jinyoung covers it up with the palm of his hand like he does his own. Jaebum is fiddling out of Jinyoung’s thin sleep pants with one hand.

“I’ll…” Jaebum slows, glancing down at Jinyoung’s briefs, tight around his hips. His face starts to burn. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he says, hanging up before his voice can crack, before Jinyoung can notice his stalling.

Jaebum is neater than Jinyoung. But Jinyoung is still… hygienic. He’d certainly put on fresh underpants, to go out and about. Jaebum even fishes out a new pair from the dresser, and he stares at them for a moment.

But to do this, Jaebum considers, he’d have to peel off the old ones.

It’s not that Jaebum’s never seen Jinyoung’s body. But this is different. It’s up close, and feels a little invasive. And now he’s thinking about Jinyoung over there, in  _ Jaebum’s _ body, looking at  _ his _ penis.

Jaebum’s brain short circuits for a moment. 

Finally he yanks the old underwear off, wobbling into the fresh ones without looking. He stares forward, eyes focused on the wallpaper defiantly. If he can do it, Jinyoung can. They’ll need to establish some rules, he decides, and quickly. 

With this thought pounding in his mind, Jaebum finishes dressing and rushes out to catch a taxi. 

//

Jaebum arrives in sixteen minutes, a little out of breath from rushing up the stairs of his building. He taps in his door’s passcode without blinking, and then finally, he’s home.

He spots Jinyoung, in his body, knelt in the center of his sparsely decorated living room. Jinyoung’s hand is outstretched toward Cake to sniff, but the cat’s eyes are suspicious and she keeps her distance.

“They won’t even look me in the eye, hyung,” Jinyoung says, glancing up at him.

And Jaebum’s breath hitches a little in his throat as he settles down right next him, because seeing him on the phone was one thing, but being face to face is another. Their knees bump into each other as Jinyoung scoots in closer.

Yes, it’s still unsettling. Yes, this is a problem they need to fix.

But making eye contact with Jinyoung… it still feels the same. Comforting. Same two souls, just in different places.

“We swapped,” Jinyoung offers.

Jaebum runs a hand through his hair in frustration, huffing out loud. “Yeah,” he says. “How?? How is that a thing? How is that even possible?”

“Did you drink, last night?” Jinyoung wonders.

“This is a little more serious than  _ a hangover,” _ Jaebum grouses.

Jinyoung purses his lips in annoyance. “I’m just… can we retrace our steps?” He says. “Maybe if there’s some clue of, of us doing  _ something unusual? _ We could try and do it again? And maybe that would reverse it.”

Jaebum pauses, licking his lips. They aren’t chapped, like he’s used to; Jinyoung’s lips are soft. 

Jinyoung’s eyes follow his movement, and then Jaebum watches him lick his own, and rub them together uncomfortably.

“Yes,” Jaebum says, throat dry. “I drank. No special flower liquor or anything. I just ate and hung out for a while with Mark and BamBam, at the company.”

Jinyoung tilts his head curiously. “You were there, hyung?” He asks. “I thought you’d left before I got there. Anyway, Jackson and I met up to drink after I worked on my track for a bit.”

“I—,” Jaebum hesitates, and then gestures at the stack of borrowed books on his coffee table. “I tried to return some books to you,” he admits. “But you’d locked yourself in 41G, and um? It sounded like you were on a call or something.”

Jinyoung has the decency to look a little shy. “Ah,” he hums. But he doesn’t offer any more detail. 

“I didn’t think I was  _ that _ drunk, at the end of the night. But I guess I was buzzed enough, because my head,” he says, and he glances at Jaebum conspicuously. Jaebum nods, sympathetic. It’s  _ Jaebum’s _ head, technically, but thinking it this way every time would get tiresome. “I woke up with a headache,” he admits. 

“Me too,” Jaebum says. “Yugyeom gave me a ride home and I don’t remember feeling that bad. But we — woke up like this.”

Jinyoung nods, eyes flickering around the living room curiously. “Do you remember that interview question, once? What would we do if we woke up in each other’s bodies?”

Jaebum sniffs. “You got your wish,” he says. “How was it, waking up with the cats?”

Jinyoung looks sadly across at Cake again, who remains hunched up, whiskers twitching at a safe distance. “They don’t know me,” he says. “They  _ know _ this isn’t the real deal.”

Jaebum raises an eyebrow, glancing over at his cat. Tentative, he extends his hand, clicking his tongue.

Cake chirrups back at him, stretching for a moment before moseying over and curling up right in the middle of his lap.

Jaebum’s heart swells, unexpectedly emotional as he runs a grateful palm down her spine and feels the same warmth, the same purr he’s come to rely on. “Ahh,” he says. “You guys don’t see my outsides?”

Jinyoung is smiling at them when Jaebum looks up, eyes gone crescent with fondness. He’s folded up tighter, knees held to his chest and looking smaller than Jaebum’s frame affords.

“Okay,” says Jaebum. “We should set some ground rules.”

Jinyoung pouts Jaebum’s own lips at him, and promptly ignores the suggestion. “How come you never invited me over?” He asks.

Jaebum gapes at him. Is this the time, for this conversation? “What?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“To get to know them,” Jinyoung hums. “You knew I wanted to.”

“The… cats?” Jaebum asks, brow knit in confusion. “I didn’t think — yes I did? In  _ that _ interview.”

“That was just for the interview,” Jinyoung says.

“That’s what I thought too!” Jaebum snaps. “I thought that was just something you said, for the fans’ sake. You never showed any  _ real _ interest back at the dorm.”

Jinyoung nods, chin digging into his knees, watching as Cake flips over in Jaebum’s lap, getting comfortable. “I look good with her,” he says, quietly.

“What are we going to  _ do?” _ Jaebum asks, irritated. “She might be moving in with you, if we’re stuck.”

Jinyoung stays silent, but he nods. “I think we should try and figure out how to reverse it,” he says. “Can we try? Drinking again.”

Jaebum sighs. “Fine,” he says. “But we’ve got recording today, and a Vlive scheduled for tonight, with the others. What do we do, in the meantime? Just act like nothing’s wrong? Do you think we should keep it a secret?? Do you think we  _ can?” _

Jinyoung straightens out his legs, wincing a bit as there’s an obvious strain to the small of his back he’s not used to. Jaebum almost wants to apologize, for his own sore spine. Jaebum’s still more flexible, overall, but he’s always working through some old injury or another.

“We can try,” says Jinyoung. “Let’s stall on singing for the moment, but we — our voices sound like each other so it shouldn’t be too bad for a day. Honestly, the members might not notice. I don’t know if they’d even believe us if we tried to explain.”

Jaebum nods. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s try it. And then — we can try, drinking what we drank last night. Do you remember?”

“A big beer,” says Jinyoung. “And a bottle of soju.”

Jaebum nods. “Three or four cans of beer for me,” he offers. “But… I think we should do some research, too. Because, why would what we drank matter? Or work?”

“Why would we swap bodies, at all?” Jinyoung says, with a frown. “None of this makes  _ sense, _ hyung. But we’ve got to try  _ something.” _

Jaebum begrudgingly agrees, scratching under Cake’s chin until her purr is especially loud. “You can stay,” he says, eyes still fixed on the cat in his lap. “You can stay here, while we work it out tonight. It just makes sense,” he says. 

Jinyoung shifts slightly, looking around the room again. “You weren’t kidding,” he says. “When you said you basically only had a bed.”

“I’ve got some extra mats,” Jaebum says. “And you can definitely have the bed.”

“As you,” Jinyoung smirks at him. “For this sore back.”

Jaebum smiles, small and sideways at the jab. It reminds him, jarringly, of Mark’s murmurs about older boyfriends. Of the phone in his pocket, with Kim Kwon all over it.

“Let’s switch these at least,” Jaebum says, handing it over.

Jinyoung practically coos in happiness, quickly passing Jaebum’s own model back to him. They spend a few moments catching up on notifications, reorienting with their real identities.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says, biting into his lip as he taps at his screen. “Did I miss a call, earlier?”

“Yeah,” says Jaebum, trying to keep his face composed. “It was right when I woke up, so. Didn’t know what to do with it. Would you like me to respond to those?”

“Ah,” says Jinyoung, shrugging. “It’s fine. We’re already hard to get a hold of, as it is. I don’t think anyone would suspect a delay in response.”

There’s no judgment there, no rebuke for not letting him know, and no warning against opening anything. Jaebum wonders, for a moment, if he ought to be as open with his own.

“I’m not… dating anyone right now,” Jaebum blurts out. “So I don’t think you’ll see anything you uh, wouldn’t want to.”

He doesn’t say it to pry, Jaebum tries to reassure himself, but as Jinyoung’s eyebrows raise, he does wonder about it. If Jinyoung will be sending or receiving any intimate texts or photos. 

“Okay,” says Jinyoung. “Good to know.” 

Nothing about a boyfriend. Let alone any sordid details about anybody older, anybody more famous. And certainly nothing about any  _ transactions. _ Jaebum is starting to suspect Mark was making it all up.

“And uh,” Jaebum hesitates. “I tried to change your pants really quickly. So I wouldn’t see… too much.”

Jinyoung’s eyes go wide again. “Too much?” He asks. “Of what?”

“I just think we should try and be respectful,” Jaebum says, testily. “Of each other’s… privacy.”

Jinyoung glances conspicuously down at his lap, and then across at Jaebum’s. Cake mews merrily from her spot there. 

“Okay. But what about using the bathroom?” Jinyoung asks. “You want me to aim that blindly, too? And bathing? We’ve seen it all before, hyung.”

“Just… maybe we do it super quickly?” Jaebum says. “Look, I don’t want to overstep our boundaries. It’s different up... close.”

Jinyoung shrugs. “It’s fine, hyung,” he says, eyes bright and sincere. “I appreciate it, but it doesn’t really bother me. It’s a strange circumstance, isn’t it?”

“Not that you’re… not that I think of you as interested,” Jaebum immediately fumbles the topic. “I’m just wanting to be sensitive, that it’s different for us!”

A beat passes, Jinyoung’s brows furrowed in silence. He doesn’t look confused — he looks disappointed. 

“It’s a strange circumstance,” Jinyoung repeats, skirting around it still. “But I don’t need any other special considerations. And hopefully we can just fix this... as soon as possible.”

He closes any window on the topic. 

Jaebum feels a slight sting at it. Somewhere in his chest, an abrupt burn, swiftly doused. Does Jinyoung think Jaebum is judging him? Does he think he’ll react poorly to knowing the truth about his personal life?

Maybe Jaebum already  _ had  _ judged him, trying to draw some strange extra boundaries based on his sexuality. He hadn’t meant Jinyoung would be less than trustworthy.

Jinyoung doesn’t want to talk about it, and Jaebum should respect that.

Jinyoung looks up from his phone, the light of it cold across the sharp features of Jaebum’s face. “We should head out soon,” he says. “Did you want to pick me an outfit?  _ Grunge style?” _

Jaebum doesn’t. He wants to apologize. He wants to be heard, the way he intended. He wants to be a person Jinyoung can rely on, with his whole heart. Like he used to be.

But now really isn’t the time.

“Sure,” he says, getting to his feet and herding his cats aside.

//

Somehow they manage to make it to the company without much incident or even conversation. They’ve both already started reading up, skimming through search engines, supernatural forums and ebooks on the ride over.

Recording schedules are strict, but they don’t have a lot on their individual plates for today. More of it’s about mixing, and Jaebum can try and pick up some of the slack at his private studio later. When he can do it as Jinyoung and nobody would know.

Later, the Vlive is casual anyway. It’s just a chance to touch base with fans and respond to some comments. 

Jinyoung is maybe a little more indulgent than Jaebum prefers, refusing aegyo only once before giving in and pursing Jaebum’s lips with a finger to his cheek. 

But it feels good enough, the group giggling and flowing naturally around them until the camera shuts off and the production team clears them to leave.

Yugyeom hovers especially close to Jaebum, peering into his eyes. Jaebum squirms a bit under the scrutiny, crossing his legs and trying to prepare an appropriately playful response.

“Hyung~,” Yugyeom sing-songs. “Mark hyung said you’ve been seeing someone new.” He tugs on the hair that curls around Jaebum’s ears, and Jaebum can’t hold back the warmth in the apples of his cheeks.

“Who is it??” Yugyeom asks. “Did you get any jewelry yet? Is he being sweet to hyung?”

He and Yugyeom have a comfortable relationship as well, but Yugyeom and Jinyoung’s dynamic has a slightly different color. Skirting somewhere between Jinyoung’s real younger brother and a mouse to his cat, Yugyeom also just  _ listens _ to Jinyoung. Sometimes for hours, Jaebum knows. And there goes that burning inside his chest again.

Yugyeom feels comfortable enough to ask about Jinyoung’s personal life. But it wasn’t even on Jaebum’s radar?

“Leave it alone,” Jaebum swats Yugyeom’s fingers away from his ears, more sensitive in Jinyoung’s body. He hopes Yugyeom understands he means the topic as well, and he shoots Jinyoung a pleading glance as if to alert him. 

Jaebum’s already out of his depth. He knows what image Jinyoung likes to present to fans. But some of him in private is still a mystery.

Jinyoung’s casually sipping a yogurt as Jackson and Youngjae bray in laughter on either side of him. He looks fairly at ease in Jaebum’s role, both on and off camera. But he gets to his feet and shuffles slowly to their side, eyes flickering between Jaebum and Yugyeom in question.

Yugyeom pointedly clams up, arm slipping off of Jaebum’s shoulders and moving to pluck gently at Jinyoung’s sleeve instead.

“Jaebum hyung, you didn’t finish your title track yesterday?” Yugyeom asks, changing topic entirely. “PDnim was asking about everyone’s status this morning.”

“It’s close,” Jaebum says, before he can stop himself. Forgetting he’s saying it as Jinyoung.

Jinyoung looks at him in surprise. They both glance at Yugyeom for a moment, and then back at each other. 

“Hyung was just telling me, earlier,” Jaebum amends, ruffling at his hair nervously. 

Jinyoung nods at him, cheeks rounding with a slow, sideways smile. “Almost done,” he assures Yugyeom. “Still working on some harmonies.”

Yugyeom is nodding along, glancing back and forth between them. He doesn’t seem suspicious, but he keeps looking at Jaebum for a beat longer than feels normal.

“Are you feeling okay, hyung?” He finally asks. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

_ The understatement of the century,  _ Jaebum thinks, and he catches Jinyoung’s eyes twinkling across at him.

“I think I just need some sleep,” Jaebum assures him, and then Jinyoung is raising his eyebrows, chin tilting toward Yugyeom subtly. 

Jaebum takes it as a hint, and flounders for a moment before reaching out and tugging Yugyeom back towards himself. The members are all pretty cuddly, and Jaebum should stay cognizant of keeping that up, even if he’s not comfortable at the moment.

Yugyeom giggles as he’s drawn into him, pretending to wriggle in protest but eventually melting into his side. Mark suddenly sweeps in from his other side and wraps comforting arms around his waist. 

The truth is, Jaebum does feel tired, regardless of energy level. It’s been a relatively low key day for them in terms of workload, but the body swap has thrown him for a loop.

A lot of the progress he’d thought he’s made with Jinyoung over the years seems moot today. 

Jinyoung is loved. Jinyoung gets all the attention and affection he deserves, without Jaebum in the picture. Their relationship is good the way it is, and maybe Jaebum shouldn’t yearn for some nostalgia-tinted image of their past. 

It’s not a realistic expectation — and was it better than what they have now? The professional harmony that pins them together?

“Do you want to share a ride?” Jinyoung asks him, lumbering into the wall beside Mark. 

Jaebum has to admit, it looks like a pose he’d pull, casual and distant. Jinyoung rubs at his face a bit, maybe to continue the narrative of them both being sleepy.

“I can take Jinyoungie home,” Mark says, squeezing Jaebum tighter around the waist. “I’m closer to his place.”

Jaebum tries not to bite his lip too obviously, but the frustration of hiding their situation bubbles up in his throat already.

“He told me I had to pick up my books,” Jaebum says, eyes catching Jinyoung’s. “Or else.”

And Mark shoots him a look — a look Jaebum’s never seen, never ever been the target of. It’s sharp, almost scolding, and it melts into pure confusion. Mark doesn’t seem to find the answer as he normally might, and his arms slip from around Jaebum as he leans back. As he scans over his face more critically.

“Let’s go,” says Jaebum, pushing away from the others. He scoops up his backpack even as Jinyoung clears his throat, looking a bit affronted.

“Uh,” Jaebum stammers. “Whenever you’re ready, hyung,” he tacks on, and shoves the backpack at him. He ignores the prickly heat of embarrassment in his ears, hoping nobody noticed.

He simply waves at the others as he sweeps out the door, too annoyed by the burdensome situation to keep up with acting. Jinyoung shuffles out a few beats later, and although he darts his eyebrows up in judgment, he doesn’t try to scold him, and Jaebum’s grateful. 

They both seem a little too frustrated by it, now. And Jaebum’s willing to bet that while they’re both praying the drinks will work, they’re skeptical.

They press into the back of a van together, and Jaebum feels his eyes get heavy as the door rolls shut beside them. Before he can think about it, he’s passing out in his seat, the darkness of sleep pressing pause on the stress of the moment.

//

When Jaebum wakes up, his eyesight is bleary, and the manager’s soft tapping at the side of his seat drifts in and out for a moment.

Once things focus, Jaebum understands the van has stopped outside his apartment. He feels Jinyoung stirring in his peripheral, and then slides the door open for them both to clamber out.

It takes a moment — their manager already zipping away, taillights smearing out of his vision, and the small of Jaebum’s back aches familiarly.

“Hy-hyung,” Jinyoung breathes out beside him, hand suddenly gripping at Jaebum’s wrist.

Jaebum glances over at him, skin buzzing where they’re connected. And it takes a moment.

But Jinyoung is  _ Jinyoung _ again, eyes round and twinkling with excitement, and Jaebum thinks he’s probably never been more excited to see him. There’s an almost liquid sense of euphoria, pulsing through his veins.

“What happened?” Jaebum murmurs, arm coming up so he can clutch at the elbow of Jinyoung’s shirt.

“Let’s get inside,” says Jinyoung, and he’s stepping to the edge of the sidewalk to let someone with groceries pass. 

Jaebum follows along numbly, still mesmerized at the sight of him. “Okay,” he murmurs, and then he’s racing up to his apartment, hand still tugging Jinyoung by his elbow.

As soon as he’s got his front door chiming behind them as it locks, Jinyoung lifts his chin to look at him again, and Jaebum wraps him into an embrace.

Jaebum shuts his eyes, hand fitted low on Jinyoung’s slim waist. He buries his face in Jinyoung’s neck, slightly overwhelmed.

“What,” Jaebum murmurs, and he feels the heat of his breath reflected back at him, his lips brushing against skin for just a moment. “What happened!” He gasps. “What was that?”

Jinyoung steps back out of his grip rather abruptly, a hand going to cup his neck as if it’s ticklish. 

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung admits, ears pink. “One second I was dozing off, and next thing I knew, I was back in my body.”

Jaebum drifts backward, feeling dizzy.

Both at the information they’re trying to parse, and Jinyoung’s awkward reaction. Jaebum supposes he shouldn’t get too close, not when Jinyoung has a boyfriend.

But why  _ would he? _ Jaebum wonders. What a strange impulse, to overstep their usual boundaries. And he certainly shouldn’t care about how deeply Jinyoung's skin had flushed. How his breath had trembled.

That’s none of Jaebum's business and he doesn’t need to see it again.

“I guess we just needed to sleep,” Jaebum says. “Or it had a time limit? Is that it?”

Jinyoung shrugs, nodding rapidly.

Jaebum steps forward again, wanting intensely to hug him once more. But Jinyoung puts a palm at his chest. Is that a warning? To keep his distance.

Tension strings out between them, and Jaebum can’t figure out why. He stares down at Jinyoung's hand on him, breath suddenly running ragged.

“We should celebrate,” Jaebum says, just as Jinyoung asks: “Guess I should head out?”

Jinyoung looks genuinely surprised. He tugs back his hand awkwardly, moving to shove the stubborn waves of his hair back.

“What if — shouldn’t we still do some research…?” Jinyoung wonders. 

“Sure,” says Jaebum, swallowing heavy. “And you can still stay —  _ should  _ still stay. Just in case. But let’s have a drink.”

Jinyoung looks dubious. 

“We won’t have as much as last night,” Jaebum assures him. “But who else… who else would have made it through this but us?”

Jinyoung starts to smile, though his fingers drag nervously down the side of his neck to tug at the collar of his sweatshirt. He doesn’t seem as enthused. 

“I couldn’t have — I would have ended up in the hospital if this was with Bam or something,” Jaebum says, and he turns to fetch some beer from the fridge.

Jinyoung hovers along behind him, and he starts picking out some fruit from the counter. But he still looks unsure. A little spooked.

They pause in his living room, arms weighed down with drinks, apples, and oranges, and Jinyoung hums as he takes in the emptiness.

“You don’t even have a tv out here,” he says, eyes smiling.

Jaebum pauses — but they both know, Jinyoung had woken up here after all. His television is in the bedroom.

//

So they end up in Jaebum’s bed. It’s not unlike when they used to share a bunk for movies in their trainee days, but there’s a little less space and a little more tension.

The dull noise of some gritty drama in the background just makes things just a little more comfortable. Fills in the gaps of their conversation.

Jinyoung’s flopped beside him, less wary now that he’s gotten through a beer. He’s leaned back against Jaebum’s headboard, legs stretched out along the length of the mattress. 

They’ve both been picking away at some mandarins, the crisp bite of citrus tasting especially sharp and bright with wheat beer. 

Jaebum pauses as he tosses a final flake of rind into the wastebasket. He looks up slowly, considering the shape of Jinyoung in his bed for just a moment. The sweats he’s borrowed are tight around his thighs and the breadth of his bottom. Jaebum knows the muscle in his calves is tight, well-defined. He’d felt it himself, yanking jeans over them this morning.

He splits the fruit in half, almost too roughly. He looks down at in alarm, concerned it might have punctured.

The hum of the drama’s unsettling soundtrack sets him on edge — reminds him to feel some shame. It’s perverted, to fantasize about Jinyoung’s body, without his permission.

Not that he would ever  _ have _ his permission. And why would Jaebum want it? Why is Jaebum even thinking about it? 

He can’t figure out why he keeps thinking about Jinyoung’s sex life — about him  _ having sex. _ But it’s been on his mind ever since the phone call. 

Ever since Jaebum overheard Jinyoung panting the word  _ hyung _ like he’s never heard it before. 

What would… what would that be like? Jaebum wonders. Could Jaebum ever be  _ that _ hyung? Was he not old enough? Jinyoung had flirted with guys around their age too, though — Hyunwoo, Wonpil, even Jackson. Did he just never make a connection there? 

Jaebum finds himself tracing up the rest of Jinyoung's body with his eyes, feeling warm. He thinks about the voice he’d heard behind the door — breathy, wanting.

Jinyoung meets his gaze when he gets up to his face, looking curious. And maybe a little amused?

“Hyung,” he says, and it’s not quite the same. It’s not a needy whine, but there’s a suspicious lilt in his voice. He’s holding out a half of his mandarin, more neatly peeled and separated than Jaebum’s.

Jaebum chuckles, exchanging it for his own, as he’d intended to share too. Jinyoung’s eyes light up as they swap the fruit, lips curling in a satisfied, catlike smile.

“I thought for a while,” Jaebum blurts out, collar feeling hot as he pops a wedge into his mouth. “Did anything ever happen with you and Wonpil? I always... I thought something would. Or might have.”

Jinyoung looks caught between two thoughts, thrown for a loop. “Oh,” he breathes out. “Wonpil. No, he’s — Wonpil is just a good friend.”

Jaebum hums around a bite of mandarin, thinking about it. “You’ve always been so close,” he says. “And you’re both… you know.”

And the gap in his words is enough for Jinyoung to decipher what he means, head tilting so that he looks at Jaebum expectantly. But there’s a sharp gleam in his eyes, as if he’s trying to pressure Jaebum into completing the thought. Saying the word.

“Into — into guys,” Jaebum says.

Jinyoung laughs then, and there’s a bit of relief that rushes through Jaebum, like just acknowledging out loud that Jinyoung is gay was some sort of friendship trial. 

_ There.  _ They’ve passed this, Jaebum thinks in satisfaction, tossing back the last wedge of orange and wriggling further into his side of the bed. They’re going to make it through this weird, awkward patch. Their partnership would be preserved. For the group, and for themselves.

“But hyung,” Jinyoung says carefully, “Wonpil and I wouldn’t fulfill each other’s, um… preferences.”

Jaebum’s brain takes a moment to catch up with what the words mean. Does Wonpil like older men too? Or is Jinyoung speaking… sexually? He lags behind, lips slowly peeling apart. 

As he processes it —  _ who tops _ — his mind spins even faster. Jinyoung is snickering at him now, at whatever ridiculous expression Jaebum’s face is slipped into.

Jaebum shrugs and looks away, embarrassed. 

Jinyoung is broader now — he’s always had lean, well-defined muscle — but he’s gotten bigger. Jaebum had seen ahgases commenting at every peek at his arms, any time he worked out. And he remembers that shower scene in  _ He is Psychometric, _ which had stirred a borderline manic response. 

He can easily picture Jinyoung hovering over someone, tension cut deep into his biceps, sweat at his brow.

“I don’t know how it works,” Jaebum admits. 

Jinyoung’s smile fades for a moment, and his eyes narrow slightly. As if he’s finally realized they’re talking about this seriously.

“It’s nothing... concrete,” says Jinyoung. “I think it’s different for everybody, depending on their vibes with each other. And whatever feels good, at the moment.”

Jaebum wonders about it, and then feels a bit childish. Of course a gay couple could even switch. 

“But still not Wonpil?” Jaebum offers, in summary.

Jinyoung’s smile comes back, more comfortable again. “No,” he chuckles. “Never Wonpil.”

Jaebum hums, watching the way the last sip of beer rolls lazy around the bottom of his bottle. He thinks about Jinyoung’s  _ vibes, _ as he put it. What do they feel like?

“It’s probably not a good idea,” Jaebum murmurs. “To get involved with someone so close. At JYPE, or — even someone who’s such a good friend.”

What he thinks he means, is it’s easier to fall in love with someone who falls in love with the latest version of you. The public version, or at least, the  _ matured _ version. Someone who doesn’t know your history, someone who doesn’t have an expectation of you behaving a certain way — for better or worse.

But he isn’t sure it comes across that way. Jinyoung’s eyes feel soft when Jaebum finds them again, almost sad.

“That’s probably right,” he says, quietly.

They watch a few more episodes of the drama, until their eyelids grow heavy once again.

Jaebum spies Jinyoung drifting off against the headboard around two in the morning, and makes the decision to pack things up for the night. 

He lets Jinyoung sink into his pillows and wanders out to the living room instead. He’s happy to play gracious host for a night if it means this bizarre situation has unwrinkled itself.

Jaebum decides he just has to stop wondering about Jinyoung’s personal life. It’s as simple as that — just stop. A good night’s sleep should really do the job this time. Even if it’s a bit cramped on his couch, even if he can hear Jinyoung’s breath from the room over.

Even if he keeps thinking about the way Jinyoung had whispered  _ hyung,  _ deep under the hazy cloud cover of his dreams.

  
  



	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Now we are starting to dip into some of the uh... meatier aspects of the body-swap genre. The tone of this continues to evolve for me with each chapter, and of course some hijinks are to be expected with this trope. But I really hope I it still feels grounded and interesting. Let me know your thoughts and I hope it's a fun ride!

**Jinyoung**

Jinyoung wakes up slowly, still in a daze. There’s no headache from the night before. 

But Jinyoung wakes up on Jaebum’s sofa. Not where he’d fallen asleep. 

And he doesn’t realize it, not at first. He’s distracted. The syrupy sweet edges of an erotic dream are dripping out of his mental grasp too slowly. 

_ Hyung—  _ is still damp on his tongue, trailing off before his dream entirely splinters apart.

He’s laying face down, legs astride the twist of a blanket and cushions, and he’s grinding slowly into the shape of them.

Jinyoung keeps rocking forward, even though the sensation has changed, not as wet and warm as what he’d dreamt. Still gentle, steady friction.

But then he starts to realize, maybe he’s really awake, and maybe he shouldn’t be humping Jaebum’s pillows. And in the midst of this, needy noises still bubbling in the back of his throat, he rolls over and realizes he’s on the couch.

And as Jinyoung sits up, grunting with the slight strain in his back and a final grasp of the situation, he’s dismayed.

Not only is he stuck in Jaebum’s body again. But he’s hard.

Jinyoung stares down at his lap, thighs splayed wide. Jaebum’s cock is  _ thick, _ he can’t help but notice — not much bigger than his own, but differently weighted, foreign to feel. It curves a little to the left in his boxer briefs, and it’s pushing uncomfortably up against the waistband.

Jinyoung is no stranger to morning wood — he’s a man just like Jaebum. But this is an  _ extenuating _ circumstance. 

_ It’s different up close,  _ Jaebum’s words come back to him and he wonders if he had been warned. 

Arousal thrums through his veins, breath shuddering in anticipation.

Jinyoung can’t help staring at it. He should probably just wait it out. No hard-on lasts  _ forever,  _ he assures himself, and this one is especially none of his business.

Jinyoung traces a finger down his thigh, hoping to distract. His cock twitches.  _ Jesus, _ he thinks, turning away in embarrassment.

But this… this makes him so much more curious. Jaebum has always been private, and Jinyoung’s been especially careful about not explicitly over-sharing with him. So neither of them know anything about each other’s sex life, and neither of them try to figure it out.

Jinyoung’s nervous of over-examination, scared of Jaebum seeing through him. Of finding the truth, which Jinyoung's long tried to hide from himself.

He’s scared of Jaebum realizing just how much Jinyoung used to admire him. Of Jaebum realizing just how much he  _ still _ admires him. Adores him.

Jinyoung sometimes dreams of him and wakes up just like this. Hard and aching, wanting something he knows he can’t have. And now, in a way — Jaebum’s body is his for the taking.

But Jinyoung can’t bring himself to touch it. He knows it’s inappropriate. 

Jaebum had been dramatic about changing Jinyoung’s underwear, for God’s sake. If he knew Jinyoung wanted to jack him off, he’d probably have a heart attack.

It’s  _ not possible,  _ Jinyoung warns himself, flopping back into the couch with a little whine.

But his mind has clattered off the rails already, and staring down at the body he’s in sends it rocketing into outer space. Jinyoung slides cautious fingers down his sides, from the wide flare of his ribs and shoulders back into the slimness of his waist and back up. 

Jaebum’s nipples roll a little differently under Jinyoung’s cautious, glancing touch, puffier than his and doubly sensitive. All he does is slide past them, too lightly to be guilty, too curious to be intentional. But  _ fuck,  _ thinks Jinyoung. That feeling isn’t for him.

And  _ double fuck, _ he’s found Jaebum’s dark, narrow happy trail, low on his abdomen and stubbornly straight. Jinyoung frowns to himself as he drags blunt nails up through it, under the thin sleep shirt where it’s rucked up. A shiver courses along in the wake of his touch.

His mind drifts again… imagining Jaebum jerking off, quiet and intense, eyes shut and head back. Imagining Jaebum bringing a girl back to this spartan apartment, one thing on his mind. 

And god, he can just  _ imagine _ Jaebum curling over someone on this very couch — imagine Jaebum’s slim hips, slapping against an ass.

Jinyoung bolts up and off the couch in frustration, and lets out a choked squeak as the head of his cock slides with the movement, poking up under the elastic of the waistband. Jinyoung hesitates, and then snaps the fabric outward and settles the shorts up a little higher, eyes carefully trained away.

He paces back and forth, frown deepening.

_ Think of unsexy things,  _ he thinks to himself, feeling like a cartoon. He thinks of ice cold showers and that awful protein shake Jackson drinks and definitely, definitely don’t think of how this body thrusts on stage, how this body is thrumming with sexual energy, of how this is Jaebum’s cock, thick and hard and pleading to be touched. 

This is  _ stupid.  _ If the roles were reversed — and! They are — Jinyoung would want Jaebum to take care of his body. And isn’t this just, basic maintenance? 

If you’d borrowed a car, you’d make sure to return it with a full tank.

But then again, the situation isn’t exactly the same. It’s not as if the original owner is  _ totally _ absent.

Jinyoung peers across at Jaebum’s bedroom, heart hammering away in his chest. He makes a decision. Hasty. Reckless. And unlikely to go over well. 

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says a moment later, leaning slowly through the doorway. It’s a trip, still visually  _ absurd _ to watch his own form sitting up in Jaebum’s bed.

And Jaebum, bleary and confused, hair ruffled around his ears from sleep, takes a moment to realize. They’ve swapped, again.

Jaebum’s expression — on Jinyoung’s face — twists. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hand going to clutch into his hair.

“We’ve got to  _ find _ something,” he mumbles. “A book or — or talk to somebody. I just don’t know who that somebody would be?? Who would  _ believe _ us?”

“These… ground rules,” Jinyoung interrupts, voice thick, trembling. “That you were talking about, before. What exactly  _ are _ they?”

Jaebum looks back up at him more closely. 

Jinyoung has angled his shoulders diagonally, one foot inside the room. He holds onto the corner of the door frame with both hands, waist and hips cocked back. Nervous, pulse pounding in his chest, in his wrists. In his cock. 

They keep talking  _ around _ each other, Jinyoung thinks. And it’s similar to how they’ve always left each other some distance. But it’s time to activate that negative space.

“Rules?” Jaebum repeats, trying to realign with Jinyoung’s side of the conversation. “For being in each other’s bodies?”

“To respect each other,” Jinyoung says, nodding. “Our… boundaries.” He steps into the room fully now, hands tugging awkwardly at Jaebum’s oversized shirt so it tugs around him, each shift of shorts triggering a tickling sensation.

And Jaebum finally notices, with a physical jolt, that Jinyoung’s hard. Or — _Jaebum’s_ _dick_ is hard, erection curved up, too obviously beneath the thin fabrics. And Jinyoung’s stuck with it.

“It’ll…” Jaebum’s mouth gapes open and shut a few times, without getting a sound out. “It’ll go down,” he promises. “Just ignore it.” 

“I’ve been awake for a while,” Jinyoung says, settling nervous hands at his hips and looking down. “And I — I know it  _ should _ go down. But I just keep…  _ thinking _ about it.”

At this, his cock  _ twitches,  _ visibly. 

Jinyoung lets out a breathy laugh, face aflame. “Hyung please,” he whines. “You’re so… so sensitive. And I didn’t  _ do _ anything, but I was already—!”

And Jaebum swallows, loudly, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “That’s okay. You can do whatever you want, Jinyoungie.”

And it shouldn’t be that surprising; Jinyoung often gets his way, especially with Jaebum. But is he really just giving him… permission?

“But hyung,” Jinyoung says, chin slowly lifting. He frowns, brows knit low and lips slowly parting into the perfect pout.  _ “You _ can do something. If you... wanted to?”

“What?” Jaebum asks, and it’s barely a word, just a gasp of confusion.

Jinyoung crosses the room more confidently now. 

Jaebum watches mutely, as Jinyoung peels his hands out of the comforter to make room for himself, and scoots back up against his chest.

The fit is a little strange, this body notably wider in the shoulders. But Jinyoung wraps Jaebum’s arm across him anyhow, fitting his palm flat to his belly, his own guiding it reassuringly. 

The buzz of body heat so low on his abdomen is promising already, and Jinyoung feels his spine tensing up, thighs flexing.

“Beom-ah,” Jinyoung whispers. “Just  _ touch yourself. _ You’d be doing it. The way you always do? So it’s not — nobody’s doing anything they wouldn’t normally.”

Even though  _ nothing _ about this is normal, Jinyoung admits to himself.

Jaebum’s breath stutters behind Jinyoung’s ear, a scoff of disbelief. Jinyoung turns sharply toward it, and their movement in the mirrored closet doors catches his attention. 

Their eyes meet here, in the reflection, and it feels safer to look at each other this way. Like they’re watching just another scene in another movie, actors on a screen. It’s comfortingly dissociative. They’re both just looking at Jinyoung’s body, curled around Jaebum’s back, hand low on his hip.

“I need—,” Jinyoung is already whining, needy before he can try to hide it. “Hyung, I need your help, please.” 

And Jaebum’s hand slips, trembling, beneath his shorts. They watch it dip down, together.

Jinyoung can’t hold back a soft moan, as warm, cautious fingers wrap around him, sending his eyelids fluttering. Jaebum stares at them still in the mirror, lips parted. It looks like Jinyoung, nervously palming Jaebum.

Then Jaebum starts to move the hand, slow and steady and gripped oh, so tight.

Jinyoung tries to stay as still as he can, isn’t sure if it’s alright to lift his hips to meet the slow build of each stroke. Jaebum curls tighter around him, chin nestling into Jinyoung’s shoulder so he can peer down at what he’s doing instead, so he can use his other hand to help tug Jinyoung’s shorts down and out of the way.

Jinyoung’s breath is heavier now, hitching with each flick of Jaebum’s wrist, the cascade of fingers along his length. 

Jaebum changes his pace often, surprisingly teasing. Once he’s built up a rhythm, just as Jinyoung thinks the pressure will crest, he’ll break it — cock pulsing firm and taut in his fist one moment and then just a thumb and two delicate fingers.

Jinyoung’s eyes are struggling to stay open, whining as he bites into his lip, not sure if he’ll survive Jaebum drawing it out too much.

“Hold on,” Jaebum says in his ear, and Jinyoung’s head snaps up in protest a beat too late.

But Jaebum’s already drawn away from his side, and Jinyoung throbs, left pink and on edge.

Jaebum isn’t gone for long, ducking around the corner of his bed for something from his nightstand, and then there’s a familiar click of a bottle cap.

Jinyoung’s reaction is practically Pavlovian, whining louder and mouth watering until Jaebum wraps arms around him again. Then finally — there’s that cool, slick touch of lubricant he’d been hoping for, Jaebum’s hand gliding back around him with wet, perfect pressure.

“Hy—yes  _ yes,” _ Jinyoung gasps, and now he doesn’t hold back his hips, head lolling back against Jaebum’s shoulder as he grinds into his grip.

He finds them in the mirror again, eyes squinting open as Jaebum jerks steadily, breath short and loud against Jinyoung’s cheek. Jinyoung wonders if it’s even stranger for him, removed from his body and looking down at a hand around his cock, not feeling what he usually feels in sync with his strokes.

But there’s no space for this deep of a thought, not as pleasure builds, Jaebum’s fingers slipping wet and fast along him. The lube is warmed up now, softly squelching and slapping.

Jaebum’s still switching up his grip, even as Jinyoung mewls in protest, gasping out loud and turning to gaze up at him with glassy eyes.

Jinyoung’s getting closer to the brink, but the soft ring of Jaebum’s fingers is pumping slower, more intensely. Jinyoung hums, biting into his lip to keep from whining outright.

“Close,” Jaebum assures him, face so near to his, and Jinyoung’s heart aches.

It still takes him by surprise, hips arching up off the mattress and mouth gaping open as the orgasm ripples through him. He can’t tear his eyes away from Jaebum, even as the other stays focused. He’s still staring down at his hand, where Jinyoung can feel his thumb dragging over the head and sputtering through spurts of cum.

Jinyoung whines, panting as he comes down, mouth watering. They haven’t really been this close since they were young. Since they sat in their old bunk, watching movies and sharing music, as other trainees came and went. 

And obviously, it wasn’t as close as this. As  _ strange _ as this, touching each other  _ as _ one another.

But it had been intimate. Jinyoung had stared up at Jaebum's lips, just like this — although they’re different at the moment.

And Jinyoung  _ wants it, _ all over again. Even after his dick softens, after Jaebum shifts his chin over and fixes him with an unreadable stare. 

Jinyoung wishes he could kiss him.

But back then, Jaebum had pulled away. Had said something brusque and dismissive.

This time, Jaebum doesn’t say a word, even though his chest is heaving under Jinyoung’s head, even though his hand is still cradling his limp cock as it trembles, dribbling still.

“I’ve got you,” he says, gliding his fingers off, voice gentle as he hands him a tissue.

And Jinyoung feels seventeen again. Small, unsure of himself, and confused about his attachment to Jaebum.

He’s matured since then, has grown confidence thanks to fans and friends and suitors alike. He knows who he is, what a crush is, and what realistic boundaries are.

But Jaebum, tenderly doting on him, not even  _ in his own body _ , sends Jinyoung right back. Right into a world of uncertainty, confusion, and raw, helpless admiration.

His heart hammering, Jinyoung straightens back up, and this time, he’s the one who pulls away from Jaebum. He wipes himself clean, tugging his shorts back up.

“I’m sorry,” he says, regret tasting bitter in his mouth. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested this, maybe he really is taking advantage of Jaebum, maybe it’s all gone wrong. “Sorry if this was strange,” he chokes out the rest.

“It’s fine,” Jaebum says, but it wavers. He grabs another tissue from his end table, and wipes long, trembling fingers clean. “But we should… probably talk.”

Jinyoung’s heart is pounding, pulse churning too loudly between his ears to tell if he understood correctly or not. “About us?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” says Jaebum, with a sharp nod. “What  _ are _ the rules? Should you stay here, until we figure it out? No personal life stuff without consulting each other? Keep each other’s phones, at least?”

Jinyoung lets out a slow breath, tearing his eyes away as his ears burn. Of course Jaebum meant about the body swap. Not their relationship.

“Sure,” says Jinyoung, processing each piece slowly. “I think that makes sense. No social life stuff, unless we absolutely have to. Maybe I stick around more. And we need to do some real research. Try to find some answers.”

Jaebum chews at his bottom lip, and Jinyoung watches, hoping distantly it won’t chap. What a strange thing to consider.

“I’ll need to get my skincare routine over here,” Jinyoung adds, as it occurs to him. “Not all of us have your natural glow, hyung.”

Jaebum looks like the joking catches him off guard. But then he smiles, grin going crooked in his own way even though it’s Jinyoung’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Let’s get our stuff together. And um, I guess if we  _ need _ to. Take care of…” and he gestures vaguely at his crotch. Jinyoung knows he’d been hard too, had felt it against his back. But his self control looks like it’s more in tact than Jinyoung’s, and he’s ignored it without asking for help. 

“We can deal with it,” he concludes. “Contact each other if we need to.”

It’s amazing he isn’t more weirded out by this, Jinyoung considers.

But: “Is this kind of thing  _ really _ going to be okay?” Jaebum asks, sounding more nervous this time. 

Jinyoung’s eyes flutter away. “It’s  _ your _ body,” he says. “I can’t answer that for you. If you don’t feel comfortable, it’s fine.”   
  
“I mean: with your boyfriend,” Jaebum clarifies, voice tight.    
  
“My what?” Jinyoung stammers, looking into his eyes, shocked. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”   
  
Jaebum looks unconvinced. “Um,” he says, and then moves to scratch behind his ear, clearly trying to appear nonchalant. “Mark might have mentioned you were seeing somebody... older. And since I heard you take that call at the studio on Friday, I figured that’s who it was.”    
  
Jinyoung can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks then, feeling a little caught out.    
  
“That’s not a boyfriend,” Jinyoung says, a little more firmly.    
  
“I don’t understand,” murmurs Jaebum. “Mark said it was your sugar daddy. Isn’t that—?”   
  
Jinyoung feels like his lungs might be collapsing, and he shifts farther away from Jaebum’s side, skin feeling too hot. He sits up even straighter, rolling his shoulders as if physically burdened. It’s hard to get comfortable, in someone else’s form.   
  
“He’s just... an acquaintance. Who I spend time with,” Jinyoung says.   
  
“Kim Kwon, right?” Jaebum says. “That  _ Psychometric  _ actor? You got another call from him yesterday, when we switched.”

Jinyoung’s eyes boggle at the guess, flushing pink again. “You think Kwon hyung—!” he gasps. “No, no. He’s just a friend, and that’s  _ not _ who I was talking to.”    
  
Jaebum looks even more ruffled, for some reason. “The—it’s somebody else?” He asks. “I mean, you’re not denying it. You  _ do _ have somebody, like that?”   
  
Jinyoung licks his teeth, behind pursed lips. Maybe Jaebum isn’t quite as okay with everything as he’d thought.

“I have an arrangement,” Jinyoung bites out. “With Gong Yoo.”

“What? You’ve got to be kidding,” Jaebum says, face pale. He looks lost somewhere between queasy and impressed. “Like, _ Goblin _ Gong Yoo? You fuck around with  _ that guy?  _ When did you even meet??”

“Not everything is about sex,” Jinyoung says, with a shrug. “He enjoys my company, and we have several common interests. He treats me very well, and he never asks for anything… vulgar.”

Jaebum seems to let the idea wash over him for a moment, and then he frowns again, as if he’s tasted something repulsive. “Does he—?” He whispers, for some reason. “Jinyoung, is he actually  _ paying _ you?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes at this, crossing one leg over the other and knitting his fingers together at the knee. “Of course he doesn’t just throw stacks of money at me,” he says. He leaves a heavy pause, however.

“But he…” Jaebum says, prodding at the air as if he can poke the answers out of Jinyoung this way. “He pays  _ for _ everything? Dinners and stuff?”

“Of course meals,” Jinyoung agrees. “A private driver. Invitations to events. Accommodations, travel. Whatever arises. Money, only if I  _ asked for _ it. But gifts — plenty of gifts.”

The words bluster about in the air between them, and Jaebum turns away, lips pursed. The sugar daddy concept doesn’t go over as sweet as it sounds. Jaebum is looking downright sour.

“And if  _ I choose _ to give him some extra attention,” Jinyoung continues, even as he knows it’s pushing the envelope of Jaebum’s comfort. “I can send photos, or initiate phone calls. I never do anything physical. But I  _ could _ if I wanted to — it’s all up to me.”

Jaebum looks even more confounded by this, face wrinkling into a frown. “So you don’t… even kiss him?” He asks.

“Not every relationship is about romance,” Jinyoung says, but his voice wavers.

“You really feel that way?” Jaebum asks, incredulous.

“It’s not like it’s about love with a lot of your girls either,” Jinyoung says, and he feels heat prickling, uncomfortable at the back of his neck. Jaebum’s body reacts differently in anger. “You’ve got all these soft, sweet fangirls who’ll do anything, just to let you come in their mouths.”

Jaebum freezes, borrowed face twisting in what looks like honest horror.

“I mean,” he stammers.  _ “Sure,  _ I’ve had flings that are just physical or whatever. But it’s not just some game for me! And it’s not like I hook up all the time, you know? Especially not  _ now,  _ especially not lately. And honestly, I haven’t been with random fans since — before.”

The parade of girls, through JJ Project. As if Jaebum had been trying to prove something. 

Sharp words they’d exchanged in their early days, for an Of Course game, come flooding back to Jinyoung now.  _ You’re involved with girls more than me,  _ Jinyoung had said, wanting to embarrass him. It’s the point of the game. 

_You’re too involved with men,_ Jaebum had spat back at him, and it had rung in Jinyoung’s ears for weeks afterward. It wasn’t only the panic of false alarm, at possibly being _found out. _It was just a cheap, easy rebuttal. But it was also a vital hint at how Jaebum must have thought it was truly an insult. Something more embarrassing to him than being a bit of a flirt.

“So it’s just the frequency that bothers you?” Jinyoung asks, trying to keep his cool. “I’ve only been with three men.”

Jaebum’s breath leaves him in a gust, and he’s sputtering, nearly spitting in surprise. “Jesus, Jinyoung,” he says, “it’s none of my business.”

Jinyoung squints in question, eyes puzzling over him like he’s something to solve. If it’s none of Jaebum’s business, why is this his reaction?

“Look, even if you don’t take advantage of it,  _ you could,”  _ Jinyoung says, and he can taste his words getting too defensive. But he wants to be understood. 

“It’s just that much  _ easier _ for you. Managers turn a blind eye to girls leaving hotel rooms all the time. If  _ I _ got caught, having a relationship with a man, the stakes are — they’re a lot higher.”

“And anyway,” he continues, as much for himself as it is for Jaebum. “Having a real boyfriend is too difficult. You know how much a serious relationship wouldn’t work right now.”

Jaebum lets out a loud huff, shifting in his spot on the bed. “That’s not the issue,” he says bitterly. 

“Well, I don’t  _ see _ what your issue is,” Jinyoung says, frankly.

Jaebum looks startled, like he genuinely hadn’t meant to say the last bit out loud.

Neither of them are being rude, or obtuse, Jinyoung thinks. They genuinely just don’t understand each other’s perspective. They’re living in two entirely different worlds, these days.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Jaebum says picking at the bedspread and looking moody.

“We should focus on what’s happening,” Jinyoung says, after another beat. “To our bodies.”

Jaebum nods along, even though he’s still frowning. 

They’ll work this out, Jinyoung thinks, begrudging as they both may be. They have to. They’re in this mess  _ together,  _ regardless of anything else.

//

They keep swapping.

One day they’ll be in their respective bodies, and they go about their business as best they can. But two or three days after that has them waking up opposite again, taking on each other’s responsibilities. It starts to become more familiar, although it’s not quite predictable or rhythmic. At the very least, sleep seems to reliably activate and deactivate it. 

Nights spent trying to polish up their album often end up spilling over into research in the early morning. 

They spend hours sifting through page after page of Google results for body swaps, supernatural discussions on internet forums, and even some cryptic old books on magic, accidental and otherwise. Nobody seems to have talked about this specific scenario, and anything that sounds similar stems from obvious fiction.

Tonight, while they’re temporarily themselves again, Jinyoung follows Jaebum back to his apartment.

It’s storming outside, but his place feels safe. Even though Jaebum hasn’t overly decorated, it’s warm by his fireplace, and they spread out their books and laptops on the floor with a few pillows.

“Where the hell did you find these?” Jinyoung asks, carefully turning a page of one of the older books. The paper is nearly translucent, and most of the writing is hand-done, ink-blotted and illegible.

“The librarian said they might help,” Jaebum says. “She was a nice looking granny who didn’t recognize me at all. I told her I was researching body swapping for a novel.”

Jinyoung wrinkles his nose, dust motes billowing up as he flicks another thin page. “I suppose it would be inspiring, if we could  _ read _ half of this,” he says. “And if you were actually writing a novel, instead of… needing real answers.”

Jinyoung lets himself indulge in the thought for a moment, finding it rather romantic. Jaebum would make a good author, he thinks, already captivating with his lyrics.

Jinyoung pictures ahgases holding books instead of light sticks, lining up for Jaebum’s signing and hoping they’ll be the one to inspire his next book. Something light bubbles up under his rib cage, and he has to fidget away a smile.

Jaebum’s always had this effect on him — and it makes Jinyoung restless with guilt. He shouldn’t indulge in this kind of fantasy. 

Jaebum flops back against the foot of his couch with a loud sigh. “I don’t know what to think,” he says. “Of course it’s not going to be some stupid magic thing. It’s probably more of a psychology issue, right? Some sort of — ultra-sympathetic… transference or something.” He waves his arms vaguely in the air.

Jinyoung shuts the old book with a careful but decisive thud. 

“Hyung,” he says, half of it dragged through a yawn. “That can’t be right. We feel everything, we  _ see _ everything. That’s not normal psychological stuff.”

“I didn’t  _ say  _ normal,” Jaebum murmurs, sourly, flopping onto his back on the floor and glaring up at the ceiling.

A clap of thunder booms outside, ominous.

Jinyoung rolls his lips together, a little uneasy at the implication. Why would that somehow make him even more nervous than the preposterous idea of magic? 

“We can’t  _ both _ be—!” And he hesitates, not wanting to say delusional. “We can’t both be abnormal in exactly opposite ways, hyung. That’s never happened.”

Jaebum shrugs, gesturing at his computer. “We don’t know that,” he says. “It’s just one more thing to look up.”

“Hyuungg,” Jinyoung says, rounding out the word as he sneaks a peek across at him.

“I’m glad it was with you too,” he admits, very quietly.

“What?” Jaebum murmurs.

“I mean,” Jinyoung tries not to stammer, tries not to smile too wide. “Like you said before — imagine swapping with BamBam, and letting him dress your body.”

Jaebum rubs at his eyes, humming in thought. “You looked good in BamBam’s clothes,” he says, and it’s so offhand Jinyoung barely thinks about it. But then Jaebum sits up abruptly, like he had just rethought what he’d said.

Jinyoung smiles at him, quite pleased by the compliment and the way the memory had lingered with Jaebum.

“At least there’s some fun to researching?” Jinyoung says. “It’s work, but it reminds me of being trainees, a little bit. Spending all this time together.”

He feels shy, saying it. Unsure if he’s allowed to admit it.

Jaebum sighs, looking a little defensive. “We still hang out,” he insists.

“It’s not the same,” Jinyoung says, eyes shifting away.

“Well I’m always down to hang out,” Jaebum says breezily, crossing his arms. “But I don’t know if I can afford you.”

It’s sharp — the way it hits Jinyoung. Like an elbow to the solar plexus. It takes him a moment to realize he’s bit down on the edge of his tongue in surprise, and his mouth suddenly tastes like blood. Like shame.

He turns away, flushing away the bitterness with a long swig of his water. Jaebum’s just joking, he knows. But it makes Jinyoung’s relationship sound gross — ugly. 

“Jinyoungie,” Jaebum’s voice is suddenly close beside him, and then he’s kneeling next to him, hand pawing at his elbow.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean it like  _ that,  _ I was just trying to be funny.”

Jinyoung doesn’t know how to respond, turning slowly to look at him. “So it’s okay if you think of my personal life as one big joke?” He asks, terse.

“I don’t!” Jaebum yelps, face flushing. “It’s just, look, it’s  _ different. _ It’s still a lot to wrap my head around. And you know I tease the other guys too if... whenever we hear anything about their love lives.”

Jinyoung swallows down the lump that’s risen in his throat, feeling somewhat placated. That’s probably true, he admits to himself. They’d roasted Yugyeom over a text from a girl for a solid two hours once. 

He doesn’t bother trying to be pedantic about  _ love life, _ and how he knows this isn’t love. Jaebum still doesn’t seem to make a distinction.

Jinyoung scrapes his fingers down over his knee, scanning Jaebum’s face for any trace of malice. There’s nothing, but there is a lingering stitch of frustration between his eyebrows, a flush around the tops of his cheekbones. 

Jaebum is  _ trying, _ genuinely, to understand. But it’s hard for him. Jinyoung’s chest feels less tight with the thought.

“I just... like to be taken care of,” Jinyoung says, eventually. “And I like to know what to expect.”

“You do,” Jaebum acknowledges, looking thoughtful. His eyes stumble over Jinyoung's lips, and his frown slowly softens. He looks tangled up in his own thoughts.

_ “ _ You understand, don’t you?  _ If you call me good boy~,”  _ Jinyoung sings quietly at him, lips curling into half of a smile.

“Yah,” Jaebum sputters out a laugh, “that’s not what that lyric meant.”

“Oh, no?” Jinyoung teases. 

Jaebum smirks at him, looking a little exasperated. But his eyes are warm, softened with fondness as he reaches out to grasp at the back of Jinyoung’s neck. 

His touch — warm, electric — makes Jinyoung’s breath falter. He tries to mask it into something close to a laugh.

Jaebum’s smile melts away, thumb stroking up into the short hairs at his nape. 

Jinyoung’s heart jackhammers away in his chest. His pulse feels so loud in his ears, in his teeth, he almost worries Jaebum can feel it, pounding hot and nervous under his skin.

“I wish I had an answer for you,” Jaebum finally says, low and quiet. “About the switching. And I’m sorry it’s stressing us out. But I really am glad it’s you too, Jinyoungie.”

Jinyoung’s mouth goes slack, eyes trembling as he stares back at him. 

There’s a pulse between them now, something unseen but fluid. Heavier than water, organic and warm as it flows around them and draws them closer.

But then the doorbell is suddenly buzzing, cold and unfeeling as it slices through the moment.

Jaebum’s face hardens, and his hand drops from around Jinyoung’s neck, slow and uneasy. 

He starts to move toward the door with a sigh. But there’s a sudden scuffling outside it, some hasty beeping, and it opens from the outside.

Mark, Jackson, and BamBam file inside, toting drinks and notebooks. They hover about in quiet surprise for a moment, eyeing Jinyoung in question.

“A-ah,” Jaebum stammers, running a hand back through his bangs. “I forgot we were workshopping your song tonight, Bam.”

Jinyoung greets them, and lets Jackson flop down beside him as they join them on the floor. He scoots aside their books and pages hastily, trying not to think about why he’s miffed one of them has the code to Jaebum’s place. 

Jinyoung reminds himself, he hadn’t visited  _ any _ of the member’s houses before now, and that’s just down to his busy schedule. He just hadn’t had the time.

Still, as soon as this thing started happening with their bodies, even in the midst of album preparation, he and Jaebum had simply  _ made _ time for each other. 

They’d fit their lives together, as complicated and messy as it had to be. 

Jinyoung thinks, for just a moment, about his sugar relationships and how neat and compartmentalized he’d kept them. How he’d thought it was the right thing to do. 

And how now, even though they’re knee deep in a some metaphysical mess — it honestly doesn’t feel so bad.

And the image of his body in the mirror, curling around Jaebum’s to jerk him off, paired with the sensation of hot breath on his neck, and a hand wrapped tight around him as he came?  _ That _ had felt  _ good. _

//

The night passes slowly, warm and lazy between them all as they listen to BamBam’s verses and offer feedback, the backing track looping on his phone. The rain outside has mellowed out to a soft, comforting rhythm on Jaebum’s windows. 

Jinyoung stays mostly quiet, familiar with BamBam’s process from having worked with him on King, but not used to  _ all _ of rapline squawking together with Jaebum at the helm. It still feels comfortable, like coming home to the noise of their old dorm. He hadn’t known he’d already started to miss it so much.

And Jaebum, deftly producing without even a computer, without even the structure of a studio, seems more appealing than ever.

A person is their most attractive, Jinyoung thinks, when they really know what they’re doing. When someone is good at what they’ve devoted themselves to, they shine.

When he and Jaebum were both young and fumbling, screwing up in recording studios for JJ Project, he’d never expected either of them to switch sides of the booth. Not so easily, anyhow. And while Jinyoung had composed and contributed to his own share of tracks, his skill still pales in comparison to Jaebum’s.

Jaebum lays flat on his back in his sparse apartment, gazing up at the ceiling with a smile, as if he can see the arrangement of the track in his mind’s eye. He wriggles a pencil in the air, at the words he wants to clip.

“What?” BamBam mutters, staring at his own notebook, pen scrawling under ‘body’ hesitantly. “Baby, let me see your secrets…? What’s wrong with  _ see your body? _ Hyung, fans are older now, they like sexy lyrics.  _ You _ write  _ most _ of them.”

_ “Secrets _ can still be sexy,” Jaebum says, “it’s just not as obvious.”

“Like  _ Ride _ could be about a motorcycle,” Jackson snickers.

“Bodies are just, bodies anyway,” Jaebum says, sitting up and catching Jinyoung’s gaze. A beat passes, the others peering over at him curiously.

“It’s not all we are,” Jaebum finishes, and Jinyoung turns away, biting back a shy smile.

But he catches Mark’s incredulous expression, looking at him with wrinkled brows and wide eyes. “Uh, okay,” he laughs. “Did you guys get the green light on another JJ comeback or something?”

Jinyoung flusters, feeling too closely seen, and he shakes his head. “Of course not,” he says, imagining management’s loathsome, exhausted reactions to them requesting another EP. “Nothing’s going on.”

“So you guys were just hanging out,” Jackson says, tone artificially light. But Jinyoung knows it’s prodding. He’s suspicious. 

“Doing… book stuff?” Jackson adds, gesturing at the piles of library books Jinyoung had hastily shoved aside. “Just... JJ Book Club?”

Jinyoung isn’t certain why he feels so self-conscious. He’s always honest with Jackson, but he doesn’t tell him absolutely everything. Still, hiding something doesn’t feel good.

“Wow, _ fascinating~,” _ BamBam joins in on the teasing with a quiet laugh, and reaches out for one of the books.

Jinyoung yanks the bottom of the pile back, hoping to keep them out of his reach. But instead, the books topple out across the floor between them, and of course everyone reaches out to look through the selection. 

Jinyoung bites down on his lip, glancing at Jaebum as he tries to choke back his alarm. Jaebum, to his credit, seems to be playing it cool, spinning his pen about idly.

“Where…” Mark is saying, and Jinyoung's throat seizes up as he turns to look back at him. 

In Mark’s hands is one of the older texts on magic, and his face looks taut, startled. “Where did you get this?” He asks.

“Ahh,” Jaebum sighs, pen pausing but face still composed. “The library. I told the librarian I was researching for a novel, because I’m... looking for um, more unusual concepts.”

Mark raises his eyebrows skeptically, while Jackson perks up, peering over his elbow at the dark, elegantly embossed leather.

“Ohh?” Jackson chirps. “Are ahgase ready for a spooky Halloween album?”

“Hyungs!” BamBam says, tossing another book down. “Let’s be vampires, then! People love fangs! And big goblets of blood!”

“Seven deadly sins!” Jackson suggests, instead. “Mr.  _ I was born sexy _ is Lust! BamBam is obviously Greed—!”

BamBam hits his arm.

Jaebum shrugs, cheeks coloring. “It hasn’t been very helpful,” he admits. “I can’t even read most of it.”

Mark’s eyes flicker between him and Jinyoung, downright suspicious.

“The librarian... an older lady?” He asks. “Red glasses? Left eye, a little lazy?”

Jinyoung sneaks a peek at Jaebum, and sure enough, he’s gone a bit pale.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, voice wobbling. “You… know her?”

“You know a  _ librarian? _ ” Jackson asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You can  _ read? _ ” BamBam jokes, and Mark reaches out and tugs at his sideburn sharply.

But Mark fixes his gaze on Jinyoung next instead, eyes steady and intense. “Why are you here?” He asks. _ “Really.” _

Jinyoung's stomach drops. It’s a fair question, he thinks to himself.

It’s awkwardly shameful to confront — he and Jaebum are no longer that close, and he’s honestly never been asked for help with their rap verses. Why is he here, then? Really?

“We’ve been having… a problem,” Jinyoung says.

Jaebum stares at him, a shade between surprise and concern.

And not since the first time since they switched, has Jinyoung felt so nervous. The genuine bizarreness of the situation is suddenly overwhelming, and he isn’t sure how they’ll react. If they’ll even believe them. His breath goes short, lungs tightening in his chest.

And yes, he and Jaebum had agreed not to tell them — but they’re running out of resources, and patience.

“We’ve…” and Jinyoung doesn’t know where to look as he says it. “We’ve been switching,” he pronounces. 

Jackson raises his eyebrows high, lips puckering.

BamBam sucks in a breath, probably ready to pounce with a lewd comment.

“Bodies,” Jaebum clarifies.

It goes silent in the apartment for a good half a minute.

BamBam blows out his breath then, and it sputters into awkward laughter.  _ “Whaa _ -at??” He croaks out, head rolling back. 

“You mean—?” Jackson is blinking rapidly, glancing back and forth between them, and then he leans in close, cupping Jaebum’s face in his hands as he laughs. “Jinyoung-ah! Is that you??”

He tries to clamber over into Jaebum’s lap, but Jaebum laughs and wrestles away, leaning closer to Jinyoung. 

“Not right  _ now, _ ” Jaebum’s breath is warm, tickling against Jinyoung’s ear. 

Jinyoung shies away, subtly, but it catches Mark’s sharp eye again. 

“We woke up that way one day, and then switched back the next morning,” Jinyoung says to him, trying to ignore the sudden goosebumps. “And it’s happened a few more times, but it doesn’t happen  _ every _ day, so it’s hard to predict. I’ve just been staying here more often, because it’s safer.”

“You were in… each other’s bodies…?” BamBam repeats, eyes blown wide as he seems to finally take it seriously.

“Swapped,” Mark says, nodding slowly. “How very  _ Freaky Friday.” _

“I don’t think it happened on a Friday,” Jaebum says, blankly.

Jackson trumpets out a laugh, even though he still looks dazed. “He means like the movie,” he says. “About swapping bodies. You know, like  _ Your Name.” _

“But you guys are… joking,” BamBam says, fiddling with his watch. “You don’t... that’s not real? Sure, it’s in movies but, you can’t be serious.”

Mark pushes the old spellbook aside and snatches up the thinner book BamBam had grabbed. He turns it around, tapping the title:  _ Occult for Dummies. _

“It seems pretty serious,” Mark murmurs, smiling. “When did it start?”

“Three weeks back,” Jaebum says. “Remember that Vlive…?”

“You left together!” Mark blurts out, dropping the book and nodding slowly. “And there  _ was _ something strange about your energy. Your eyes weren’t right.”

Jackson snorts, waving his hand in the air. “Stop,” he says. “Stop encouraging this. This is the  _ silliest _ prank you’ve ever tried to pull! You couldn’t even dress up like each other, or something? What show is this for??” He leans away, neck stretching comically as he scans the room’s corners for a hidden camera.

“Is it a new one?” He asks. “Who’s the host? Soogeun-ssi are you watching? Hyungdon??”

“It’s no joke,” Jinyoung says, voice thinning into a whine. “Sseunie, I woke up with a flat butt and a bad back.”

Jackson gasps, choking and sputtering into a smile as he turns to Jaebum to catch his reaction.

Jaebum sits up a little straighter, frowning at Jinyoung in betrayal. “Yah...” he says weakly. 

Jackson cackles, collapsing across Jinyoung’s lap, and even with the extra weight, Jinyoung feels less burdened. 

It feels good to let the others know. Feels like they might be able to help.

“So Mijoo gave you these,” Mark is humming softly to himself, sifting further through their stack of books.

“Mijoo??” Jaebum asks, eyes flashing. “I didn’t say what her name was?”

Mark raises his eyebrows, the rest of him very still. He seems to reflect for a moment, and then nods slowly. “Yes,” he says. “Mijoo noona is a… mentor of mine.”

BamBam lets out a little scoff in disbelief.

“Mentor...?” Jackson mumbles.

But Mark’s serious expression doesn’t lapse, focusing back on Jinyoung and Jaebum.

“Do you need my help?” He asks.

Jinyoung can nearly feel his heart shuddering against his ribcage, inexplicably nervous. Something about this feels official. Important. “Yes,” he chokes out, and Jaebum is already looking at him when he glances over. 

Then Jaebum nods along, face gone grim. “Yes,” he says. “If you think you know... something? If you think you  _ can?” _

“Of course I can. I’m a witch,” says Mark, like it’s absolutely no big deal. He grins at them then, teeth white and sharp.

Nobody can manage a reply.

Jinyoung blinks rapidly, anxiously, as if at some point his vision will clear and Mark will be laughing at him. He holds his hand over his mouth, world turned on its side.

But Mark remains as he is, cool and collected, straightening out the stack of books. 

“You’re — a  _ witch? _ ” Jaebum repeats.

“Or, uh, a wizard,” Mark says. “We don’t really bother with all those distinctions you guys do. We… practice magic. And when I moved here from the States, I especially needed some help finding a new coven, learning about this magical culture, all of that. And Mijoo noona found me at the library, and knew exactly what to do.”

He pauses, and then brandishes  _ Occult for Dummies _ at Jaebum again. “Mijoo’s sensitive. She  _ reads _ people,” he says, shaking the book. “And she knew you were a dummy. Who had some magic-specific problems.”

A beat passes, all of them trying to digest this information. 

“A witch,” Jaebum whispers.

“Magic,” Jackson adds, lifting his head up and out of Jinyoung’s lap. He’s pale as he stares across at Mark, genuinely spooked. “You’re  _ magic??” _

Jinyoung stays silent, breath trembling into his palm.

“So when you were switched, did you guys have to touch each others’ dicks?” BamBam asks Jaebum.

_ “Bam, _ ” Jaebum groans, head dropping back.

“I mean,” BamBam sputters. “Isn’t that a fair question? Everyone  _ has _ to pee, right? Is that in any of the movies??”

Jinyoung shifts, face flushing, and avoids this line of questioning entirely. “Does this sound... possible??” He asks Mark. “Have you heard of anything like it?”

“I have, here and there,” Mark says, tugging his sweater sleeves down over his knuckles. He’s frowning at the floor, seemingly working something out in his head. “I think it sounds like something called ultra-sympathetic transference.”

Jaebum makes a noise beside him, but Jinyoung refuses to look at him.

“Does it… wear off?” Jinyoung asks.

“Well,” Mark sighs. “This type of spell, it’s rooted in pretty old magic.” He tosses the newer books aside and flicks the oldest, dustiest text open instead. But it’s not dusty when Mark cracks it apart, and the very page it falls open to seems to be exactly the one he was looking for. 

Jinyoung watches, breath caught in his throat. The scrambled, illegible text actually warps, wriggling and rearranging under Mark’s finger as he drags it down the page, transforming into neatly typeset characters in its wake.

_ Of Transference,  _ the chapter header reads now, clear as day.

Jinyoung’s stomach flips.  _ Impossible, _ a part of him thinks. 

But then — he’s already lived through something even stranger. 

“In old times,” Mark says, nodding as he reads ahead. “This kind of spell was used to help impart insight into a conflict. To see from someone else’s perspective, literally. If the person who performed the incantation had beef with you — you would’ve switched with them.”

Jaebum and Jinyoung look at each other in alarm. Neither of them had cast this. 

“I didn’t—,” Jaebum says, just as Jinyoung shakes his head. 

“I’m not a witch,” Jinyoung says, throat dry. Even the word feels strange to say, in a serious manner.

“I’m not saying you guys did this,” Mark says. “But what I’m saying is, the swapped parties indicate where the  _ conflict _ is. It’s meant to help people understand each other. Although I don’t remember it being described as  _ this _ physical, or even recurring. Most of these accounts are more temporary, almost like having a flashback that’s not your own.”

“But we don’t  _ have _ conflict,” Jinyoung says, starting to feel a little overwhelmed. 

Mark turns to Jaebum, eyebrows raised.

Jaebum doesn’t respond immediately, and Jinyoung’s stomach lurches.  _ Do _ they have a problem? 

“I don’t...  _ think _ we do,” Jaebum starts, seeming to sense Jinyoung’s rush of panic. He reaches a hand out, to grasp at Jinyoung’s knee, but Jinyoung still feels queasy, uncertain.

“But I don’t really  _ know _ if we’re all okay,” Jaebum rambles on. “I — I guess this whole thing has kind of left me wondering. About how much do I really know... how well  _ do _ I know Jinyoungie anymore? We kind of just… work together?”

And Jinyoung feels dizzy, heat creeping up his face, feeling suddenly strangely humiliated and desperately out of place.

And he is out of place, isn’t he. He wouldn’t have been here to help BamBam, and he doesn’t have Jaebum’s door code memorized.

_ It’s too much,  _ he thinks to himself. Too much to reckon, too fast. Magic, witches, the absolute bizarreness of being blinked out of his own body and into someone else’s, and now this.

His relationship with Jaebum is supposed to be perfect. Or at least,  _ reliable. _ He knows their roles well, how they’ll always understand each other’s expressions, stupid jokes, and exasperations.

He  _ knows _ Jaebum leans into their partnership when he needs something, and eases off when he doesn’t. But for that to all be revealed as just keeping up pretenses? For Jaebum to actually feel this distant, for their bond to be… so desperately shallow.

And Jinyoung had asked Jaebum to touch him — how uncomfortable must that have made him? 

The disappointment is breathtaking. It’s too much.

Mark leans back, looking slowly up at Jinyoung, eyes soft and apologetic. Like he hadn’t meant to pry. But of course he had to, because they needed it.

“Okay,” says Jinyoung, not okay at all. “What do we do?”

“Well, there might be a time limit on the magic, like you asked. But otherwise?” Mark says, smoothing a wrinkle out of the next page of the book. The words flicker and flutter out of position and back into place, creating new words. “That tension… It has to be resolved, somehow.”

Jinyoung presses his lips together, mouth feeling like it’s suddenly full of cement. He nods, face gone numb.

How do you fix a problem… that you didn’t know existed?

“We should—,” Jaebum starts, but Jinyoung’s getting to his knees and then standing up slowly, pushing aside the books and notes.

“I actually have to head out,” he hears himself say, ears ringing with humiliation. All he can bear to focus on are his own hands, vision collapsed to something like a tunnel, nearly blind with frustration. “I forgot, I have an appointment, actually.”

It’s just too much.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, a little too stern.

The scolding in his tone makes Jinyoung angrier, and he’s whipping his way out of the apartment now, head pounding as he shoves his feet into his sneakers.

Jinyoung storms outside, headache drilling down into his teeth, teeth digging into the side of his cheek. He stampedes down the staircase and onto the sidewalk, picking a direction at random and just  _ going. _

The rain has stopped, the city gone quiet and the air refreshed. Reflected lights dazzle across the wet asphalt, and he wanders.

He just walks, feet heavy, until he can breathe again.

His stomach is still twisted, but the soft hum of night-time is comforting. The sound of tires slowly crunching through wet gravel feels simple, and grounded in reality. 

As he passes a cafe, still bright and full of people quietly studying and conversing, his mind races as he wonders who’s magical and who’s not. Could just... any of these people harness a power to distort his perception, to meddle in his personal life?

It’s a terrifying thought. Magic had always seemed like a silly children’s fantasy to him, the sparkling swish of a wand cleaning up some clutter. A fairy god-somebody looking out for your best interests. 

_ This _ concept feels more like a horror movie — the sludge of a potion churning through his guts, cursed from afar to be trapped in another form.

Jinyoung’s feet finally slow as he comes to an intersection. He’s wandered about a mile, and he starts to recognize the neighborhood, as it’s slowly shifted to another part of town. 

Maybe he’ll keep heading towards the company, get some work done on his songs, and this late walk won’t be a complete waste of time. He reaches for his phone, to text his manager for a ride.

It isn’t there.

His fingertips feel numb, tingling in his jeans pocket as he fishes back and forth, as if the phone will somehow have been hiding there anyhow.

Nothing but empty cotton, and Jinyoung looks out at the street, utterly bewildered.

There’s a honk then, and a sleek sedan pulls to the curb beside him. The streetlights sparkle in each droplet on the hood, mesmerizing him for a moment. 

Jinyoung tries to tear his attention away then, suddenly nervous about being approached by a stranger on his own, miles from his members or security. 

But when the passenger window rolls down, Jinyoung’s pleasantly surprised.

  
  



	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! Another installment in this topsy-turvy whirligig of a story. I know same-gendered pronouns can already read a little confusing in fic, and this body swap business has made it even murkier. So if anything needs clarification please give me a heads up... I really tried my best!
> 
> Anyway I had fun, this chapter got a little away from me at 12K+ words but! I hope they're all enjoyable. Let me know your thoughts!

**Jaebum**

The second the door slams after Jinyoung’s swift exit, Jaebum’s stomach lurches. He feels, for a moment, like he might actually throw up.

But then, turning back to Mark, Jackson and BamBam, Jaebum thinks he might just feel guilty. 

“I don’t know,” Jaebum snarls out, as soon as Jackson opens his mouth.

“Okay,” Jackson says gently, hands up. “Do you think one of us should go after him?”

Jaebum bites down on his lip, glancing back at the door. “Not right now,” he says, and he’s left wondering how they’ll bounce back from this. “I think he just needs… space,” he murmurs.

“Okay,” Jackson repeats, and then lets another full beat pass, before flicking his head back to Mark with wild eyes. “You’re telling me you’re  _ really _ a witch??”

Mark sighs and stretches his arms out, looking unbothered. “It’s more common than you think,” he offers.

“Is it??” Jackson says.

“But…” BamBam looks deep in thought, a little troubled. “Hyung, but... what does that even mean? Do you have a wand??”

Mark’s lips quirk. 

“Okay, my bad,” BamBam says. “For the first time, I am actually  _ not  _ asking about your—!” 

“I do,” Mark cuts in, and then he looks at Jackson, sort of shyly. “Do you remember that old umbrella? From when we first met?”

Jackson’s mouth falls open, as Mark turns back to BamBam quickly, waving a hand.

“But I don’t  _ need _ a wand for everything,” he says. “There are plenty of ways to use the craft.”

BamBam's expression brightens. “Do you fly on a broom?” He asks. “Did you go to magic school? Do you have to wear stripey socks? Can you stop time??”

Mark flicks him on the forehead.

BamBam freezes, blinking at him in dizzy horror as the blood rushes away from his face. 

“Was that... a curse?” He whispers.

“No,” Mark says. “I just hit you because you’re annoying.”

“Can we  _ focus?” _ Jaebum asks. “Mark, could you reverse the spell or something??”

Mark’s face twists as he seems to consider it. “It’s never a good idea to try and counteract magic when you’re not sure what the actual method or intent was — I could make it worse.”

Jaebum thinks, gloomily, that he’s not sure how much worse it could get.

“Permanent?” Jackson asks, and Jaebum gulps. 

Right. That would be worse. Definitely worse. 

“Sure,” says Mark. “Or — it could splice their consciousness and they’d be mixed, not even completely in the wrong bodies. Or not even in bodies at all.”

Jaebum runs a hand down his face. That’s — that’s much worse.

“So we just need to hold out,” he says, voice wavering. “And figure out how to resolve our conflict?”

“Jinyoung hyung might want to storm out less,” BamBam notes.

“He’s upset,” Jackson says, gently. “It’s not easy to sit back and let us dig into his personal life.”

Jaebum peeks out between his fingers. “But I have to??” He counters.

“Hyung,” Jackson says, tone sweetening. “Just be open with him! Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t need to be complicated if you’re both just honest.”

_ “I’m  _ being honest!” Jaebum blurts out. “I know what we have. I know it’s not perfect. He’s the one running away.”

“Have you considered just trying to… unclench?” Mark asks, picking at his sweater.

Jackson is nodding fervently, and Jaebum lets out a long, weary breath. Jinyoung’s decision to leave is really starting to look like the right one.

“Nobody’s… clenched,” Jaebum says. His mind stumbles over how tightly he’d held Jinyoung, in his body, as he’d trembled through an orgasm.

“What about  _ who _ cast it?” BamBam finally asks. “How’d they do it? Why should anybody be allowed to just swap people around without them knowing?”

Mark purses his lips in thought. “Typically,” he says, slowly. “This level of spell can’t be carried out from too much of a distance. It’s most likely someone close to you, since a lot of the ingredients and invocations rely on those connections, on that kind of access.”

“Access?” Jaebum says. “So potentially — a manager? Or family.”

“One of the members?” BamBam suggests. 

Mark tilts his head in consideration.

“Would you know?” Jackson asks. “Can you sense other witches?”

Mark shrugs. “Having magic potential is one matter — a lot of idols have buckets of it. Non-magical people can mistake it for charisma. Some idols even know about magic and buy simple glamours or tricks, to make themselves a little more beautiful, mysterious, that sort of thing. There’s a whole market for low-grade magic.”

“Is that how you look like this?” Jackson jokes, and Mark elbows him, but he’s smiling.

“But to be a witch, and to really cast something of volume — it takes more than potential,” he continues. “You commit yourself. There’s an encrypted licensing system, and covens for families. I would definitely know if one of us was on the up and up.”

“So that still leaves, other people at the company,” Jackson says. “Friends and family, or?”

“Someone...  _ not _ on the up and up?” BamBam asks, eyes wobbling. 

“Right,” breathes Mark. “We could be dealing with dark magic. The thing is, there are a  _ lot _ of rules — laws about spells without consent, about corporeal effects, and about your motivation. If it’s a third party we don’t know, interfering with your soul’s connection to your body, this could be kinda dangerous.”

“Dangerous...?” Jaebum exhales. Jinyoung being out of sight makes him feel queasy again.

“So we’re dealing with a bad guy??” Jackson asks, looking nervous. “What makes some magic dark?”

“It’s not necessarily  _ bad,” _ Mark says, flicking through the old book. It falls open to a spread of two dark purple pages, and a little breeze puffs out from around it, unsettling some loose cat hairs.

Mark puts a delicate fingertip to the bottom of one page, and again, letters start to form. Bronze ink wriggles out of the fibers of the paper, elegant swashes and strokes spelling out  _ On Darkness,  _ upside down _ . _

“The problem with dark magic is it’s raw,” Mark says, spinning the book around. “It doesn’t follow formula, it’s organic and unregulated. So you can end up causing more harm than good. Of course — it’s also very powerful.”

Mark drags his finger sideways, dipping deliberately across the spine and then waiting in the very middle of the facing page. Around his fingertip, an ornate frame blooms, and then within it, an illustration. 

Mark draws his hand back so they can see — a person beneath a sun. The sun shimmers, beams of light bouncing about the frame, and the person’s hands are glowing in response.

“All magic started this way,” Mark hums, looking thoughtful. “Intuitive, unpredictable. Now, we’ve buttoned up a lot of it. Partly for efficiency, but also to try and make sure we’re being responsible. Just like science, our methods have advanced from basic curiosity.”

“But to  _ make _ someone leave their body,” BamBam says. “It doesn’t sound very nice. Or responsible.”

“Right,” says Mark, sounding a bit discouraged. “It’s reckless, for sure.”

“Then finding out who cast it is everything,” says Jackson, looking back at Jaebum, eyes firm.

“I think it’s secondary,” Mark says. “To figuring out what’s going on with  _ them _ . If this spell is off the books, it might even be hard for the original caster to reverse. But we should try to find them, for our safety.”

They’re interrupted by a ringtone, and Jaebum’s breath leaves him in a gust. It’s a relief, for even a moment, to think about something else, and they all shift, checking their notifications.

Jaebum finds the source under an abandoned textbook, and sure enough, it’s Jinyoung’s phone. Jinyoung had forgotten it, and Gong Yoo’s name flashes quietly across the screen for another moment before going idle and quiet again.

Jaebum sighs, loudly. “It’s Jinyoung’s,” he says to the room, trying not to look too glum. 

He hadn’t thought about Jinyoung having a sugar daddy for the whole night, and the reminder brushes, prickly, along the sides of his mind. Now more than ever, it seems so unimportant, so beyond the breadth of his business that even  _ thinking _ about it is ridiculous. 

But it still bothers him — especially after seeing Jinyoung’s eyes shut in pleasure, after him quietly admitting to Jaebum that he’s glad to be in this predicament with him. There are pieces of Jinyoung that Jaebum doesn’t feel Gong Yoo, or anybody else who’s paying, deserves to know.

And while Jinyoung has assured him it’s not emotional — and not even physical — it still sits uncomfortably with Jaebum.

He tosses it aside, literally flinging Jinyoung’s phone into the sofa, and yanks up BamBam’s notebook instead.

“Let’s finish this fucking verse,” he says, gruffly.

And if the others are upset by his abrupt change in topic, they don’t voice it out loud.

//

A while later, there’s a knock at the door, and Jaebum’s stomach twists in anticipation. He isn’t sure if he can handle being confronted with Jinyoung’s nakedly hurt expression again. But he also feels relief, that Jinyoung’s returned at all.

So Jaebum flings the door open, expecting a humbled Jinyoung. He’s trying to soften his own expression already. 

But it’s Kim Kwon at his door, hands in his coat pockets and looking perfectly at ease.

“Hi there,” he says.

Fuck, this guy is handsome. Jaebum nearly winces at the sight of him. Maybe he’s been using a spell, like Mark mentioned. Or maybe — Jaebum’s just feeling less and less straight every day.

“Hi,” he manages to croak out. “Jinyoung’s um, not here.” And it’s unexpectedly difficult to keep his face from crumpling into a glare, but he tries. 

“No, I know,” says Kwon, waving a hand. “He’s waiting down in the car. I actually just ran into him. I offered him a ride, since it’s late, and he just wanted to swing back past here since he forgot his phone.”

Jaebum really can’t restrain his frown now, sourly picturing Jinyoung refusing to come back up. Even for his damn cellphone.

Then he thinks about the distance, and how late it is, and how Jinyoung was  _ alone, _ without even a phone. And it turns his stomach. It sends him back, and he wants to yank a scarf around Jinyoung’s neck and tug him back home again.

But here’s Kim Kwon, the person who’s taking care of him now. Or, one of several handsome options. Jinyoung doesn’t  _ need _ Jaebum.

“Ohhh,” BamBam crows, popping up around Jaebum’s shoulder, fingers digging into his elbow. “Kim Kwon-ssi, you were so good at being a creep on hyung's show! How’d you do it?”

“You could already write the manual on creepy,” Mark assures BamBam, pushing him back and pressing forward himself. He slips Jinyoung’s phone into Jaebum’s hand as his eyes glitter across Kwon in quiet interest.

“Oh oh, I have a question,” Jackson bellows. “Which one of Jinyoungie’s members did he talk the most about?” He shoulders past them all and posing cutely with a hand under his chin.

Jaebum lets out an awkward laugh and a sigh, dipping his head apologetically. It looks like Kwon is getting a properly chaotic GOT7 introduction even with just the four of them.

But Kwon just chuckles, eyes scanning over Jaebum’s face as if he’s trying to read something.

“Hmm,” he says, grinning. “I’m not sure.”

And Jaebum suddenly thinks — did Jinyoung say anything  _ about _ Jaebum? To Kwon? His brain stutters, skips like a disc.

But: “Maybe Yugyeom?” Kwon says, as he looks back at Jackson. “He’s your youngest, right?”

Mark hums and nods. “He’s definitely a favorite.” 

Jaebum’s left to flush, feeling selfish and stupid to think it could’ve been himself.

“Yeah,” says Kwon, and he catches Jaebum’s gaze once again, eyes sparkling. “Lots of stuff about you two during Focus promo.”

Jaebum forces down the lump in his throat and extends Jinyoung’s phone toward Kwon.

“Make sure he gets home safe,” he says.

The phone buzzes with another alert. Kwon takes it from him just as the screen lights up, eyes flickering, and Jaebum knows he’s scanning through the previous notifications — Gong Yoo’s missed call certainly one of them. 

Kwon raises his eyebrows at the phone, and slowly glances back up at Jaebum. 

Jaebum keeps his smile tight, not wanting to let any of his thoughts bleed through.  _ Nobody’s business _ , he repeats to himself.

“He’s in good hands,” Kwon assures them, and then bids them goodbye. He manages to escape after several rounds of enthusiastic fist bumps from Jackson and BamBam, and Jaebum watches him all the way back to the elevator.

Jaebum really doesn't want to envision Jinyoung  _ in Kwon’s hands, _ and he shuts the door a little too forcefully with the thought.

“Wow, what a man,” says BamBam, nodding as the lock chimes. “I totally trust him.”

Jaebum holds back from snapping at him, but Jackson wraps a strong arm around BamBam’s neck first. 

“Hey,” Jackson says to Mark brightly, “is there a way you could scan people like that? See if they’re actually trustworthy?” BamBam flops about in his headlock, trying to wriggle away. 

Mark shrugs. “Only to some degree. Readings can be super easily misinterpreted, if you’re not experienced.”

“Then how do you know me and Jinyoung are really at odds?” Jaebum counters. “Both of us were surprised by it, and what if some other witch misinterpreted things, or did this to drive us apart in the first place?”

Jackson and Mark look across at him skeptically, and BamBam stops his struggle in Jackson’s grip.

“Come on hyung,” BamBam says, with a sympathetic cluck. “Everybody can tell you guys have worked out a good partnership. It’s nice. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t know.”

“Know what—?” Jaebum snaps back, out of patience.

“That Jinyoung probably used to have a crush on you,” Jackson says. “When you were first trainees. And you resented being stuck with him.”

“So you’ve always kept your distance,” BamBam interjects. 

“And Jinyoung has moved on,” Mark points out, with a finger in the air. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t still treat him like he might be contagious.”

Jaebum’s jaw drops.

“I don’t…!” and then his breath seems to run short. As if someone’s punched him in the ribcage. Because really, he  _ does _ keep Jinyoung at arm’s length, but he had never meant for it to seem like he thought Jinyoung was undesirable. He never  _ resented _ being paired with Jinyoung. 

Jaebum had pushed Jinyoung away, so  _ Jaebum _ wouldn’t ruin things. So he wouldn’t be too soft or too harsh, so he wouldn’t risk what little clout they had at the company.

And he’d never, even for a moment, imagined Jinyoung had had feelings for him. And if he had, it wouldn’t have made Jaebum treat him differently — would it?

“It’s not like the rest of us have perfect relationships either,” Jaebum insists, suddenly bubbling hot with self consciousness. “Nobody does. Jackson and your parents had that fight—!”

Mark’s eye twitches.

“Okay,” Jackson claps his palm loudly against BamBam’s chest. “Time for us to take off! Gonna pass on the part of the night where you try to hurt other people just to make yourself feel better.” He doubles back into the living room.

“Jaebum hyung,” BamBam says, softer as he bumps shoulders with Mark. “Do you really want to make this guy angry?? When you just found out he’s a  _ witch?” _

“I’m not trying to hurt anybody’s feelings,” Jaebum says, teeth gritted tight. “But where exactly do you guys get off saying I resented it, that I think he’s  _ contagious?  _ None of that is true. And we  _ aren’t _ the only people with... issues.”

“Well, you’re the only two stuck  _ with a body swap curse, _ so…” BamBam mutters.

Jackson re-emerges with everyone’s bags, looping his arm around BamBam again and herding them towards the door. Jaebum stubbornly doesn’t look at him.

Mark lags behind for a moment, waiting for the other two to slip out first. He turns back, with a sigh.

“Keep me updated,” he says. “I’ll look into some ways to track the source down, and you just focus on what you  _ can _ do. Like… talking to Jinyoung, for real.”

Jaebum doesn’t move for a moment after they’ve left, stock still as he thinks about how this mess just seems to have gotten even more complicated in the space of a few hours. He isn’t really sure if he’s relieved to have found an answer, after all. 

He knows BamBam was just joking around, but is he right? Is this a  _ curse? _

//

The next day, Jaebum sneezes. And it  _ hurts —  _ it feels like it rips out of his lungs, like he’s ill. He keeps his eyes shut for a moment afterward, head spinning.

Then he cracks his neck, and it doesn’t pop the way it usually does.

Jaebum opens his eyes... in Jinyoung’s apartment.

“Damn it,” he breathes. This is the first time it’s happened without sleep.

_ A sneeze can trigger it now??  _ He wonders, rubbing at his eyes.

He looks around, bewildered. Music is playing, loudly, from Jinyoung’s open laptop. Something about  _ if you make me feel in love, then I'll blossom for you,  _ and as Jaebum searches for the interface to pause it, he can’t help but notice. 

The camera app. Left open and atop the other windows. 

And in the recent reel of shots: Jinyoung with his mouth open, tip of a pink tongue peeking out. Then Jinyoung sticking his tongue out entirely, thick and pink and wet. And the next one, shot farther back: finger to his lips, knees knocked wide apart, all the long lines of his legs pointing visually towards his—!

_ You ain't tried no drug like me,  _ the track croons in the background. Jaebum slams the computer shut. 

He looks around. He’s seated in the living room, but he’s only in… Jaebum flushes all over. 

Jinyoung had just been wearing briefs, and a loose, short t-shirt. 

Flustered, Jaebum tries to tug the shirt back up over a shoulder, only for it to slip off the other. The crop of the shirt leaves Jinyoung’s belly on full display, happy trail spilling lazy and untrimmed into baby blue underpants. 

Or — they’re white, with thin, light blue stripes, which follow along his curves and strain where they hold him in tightest.

Jaebum can’t help but stare down at himself in shock for a few full beats, in hungry curiosity. He’s surprised by the flicker of arousal he feels as he scrambles to his feet — but only a little.

If there’s anything this ordeal has taught Jaebum, it’s just how sexy he can find a masculine body. 

And yes, his fluidity has been something he was slowly warming up to. Especially over the last few years, living on his own and having more freedom to explore.

But now, it’s impossible not to notice — Jinyoung’s body in particular. He’s a little thicker than Jaebum in some places, a little smaller in others. He has soft, full lips that Jaebum can never resist biting down on, and skin a little more golden, sometimes shaved and sometimes stubbled.

To say he finds Jinyoung attractive is easy; he’s said it before, even on camera. Jinyoung is handsome, has handsome features, has an unbelievable physique, looks sweet and beautiful dressed as a boy or a girl.

But now, to admit he might be attracted  _ to _ a man? To Jinyoung, himself? 

That’s new.

Jaebum hurries into Jinyoung’s room before he can overthink things, before he can get too aroused. 

He finds a pair of sweats and tugs them up over the soft bulge of Jinyoung’s cock and balls. What he can’t see can’t tempt him.

This isn’t something he was meant to see, anyhow. To experience. It’s Jinyoung’s private life.

Whomever those photos are for — and it could just be for Jinyoung, himself — isn’t Jaebum.  He sags back into Jinyoung’s couch with his head in his hands, mind racing, and waits.

Fifteen minutes later, Jinyoung billows back into his apartment without so much as a greeting.

“Did you take a nap or something?” He snaps. “All I did was blink, and this happened?”

Jaebum swallows, not sure why he's nervous. “Sneezed,” he admits.

A stretch of silence. 

“What?” Jinyoung cries. “So it’s getting worse? It doesn’t even need sleep?”

Jaebum stares helplessly up at him, at his body, suddenly taken aback by how forceful it looks, apology withering away on the tip of his tongue. “Please don't make this any harder than it has to be,” he says, before he can help it.

_“I'm_ making this harder?” Jinyoung snaps. “You're the one who thinks we have some kind of beef, and has played me for... years, I guess! Fucking news to me.”

“I didn’t think we had  _ beef,” _ Jaebum says, exasperated. “But all of a sudden, I’m in your life, and I just realized! I didn’t recognize any of it. You’ve hardly let me in, at all.”

“When  _ didn’t _ I let you in?” Jinyoung asks. “When I read every book you read? When I got into photography because of you? I’ve been basically knocking at your door for ages, and in return you barely talk to me unless it’s about the group, or if we’re on camera!”

“Well excuse me,” Jaebum stands up, ears hot with irritation. “You don't talk to me about anything either — not my cats, not my parents. And you never ask me for advice, anymore. You don’t tell me things the way you do Yugyeom, or Mark, or Jackson. I mean you certainly never told me about all the old men you’re sexting for money—!”

Jinyoung shoves him, hard, and it’s startling, especially bizarre for Jaebum to try and understand the image of his own body moving so violently towards himself. He doesn’t react at first, not even as Jinyoung does it again, and Jaebum stumbles backward with the weight of it.

“Why do you think—!” And this time when Jinyoung shoves him again, Jaebum reacts, grabbing his wrists and holding them away from him. 

Jinyoung trembles under his touch, but even as he pulses forward again, Jaebum keeps him at bay easily. Using Jinyoung’s upper body strength against him is no joke. They’re well-matched. 

“Why do you  _ think _ I didn’t tell you about my love life, hyung?” Jinyoung asks, neck straining. “You used my sexuality as an insult more than a few times in JJ Project. And if it’d been worse than just a joke to you, how was I supposed to know? You used to snap at me for wrapping an arm around you. What would you have  _ done, _ if I’d told you the truth?? Frankly, it just wasn’t worth finding out.”

Jaebum’s blood runs cold, stomach turning over on itself. Shame creeps up his spine and he steps backward, releasing his arms.

He hadn’t been  _ sweet _ to Jinyoung after a certain point, but had he really been that bad? Had Jinyoung really been afraid of his reaction?

“I was like, seventeen,” Jaebum says, collapsing onto Jinyoung’s sofa, rubbing at his face. “I was just a kid and I didn’t — I didn’t know how to handle that kind of thing. I’m sorry.”

“You were seventeen. And I was  _ sixteen,” _ Jinyoung reminds him. “We were fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, hyung, and I — I was sixteen, and managers and seniors were already trying to talk me into things. Trying to see me naked. Trying to touch me.”

Jaebum nearly chokes on his spit, throat suddenly aching with regret. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jinyoung says, quietly. “And you weren’t around. Nothing — nothing  _ awful _ happened, but I had to learn how to distrust people. How to take care of myself. So I made them pay.” 

He crumples down onto the couch, beside Jaebum, legs tucked underneath him. He picks at a couch cushion, avoiding his eyes.

“It gave me some agency, you know?” He says. “To turn somebody down, if they couldn’t afford me. Or if I priced them out, on purpose. And I kept track of  _ everything, _ receipts and texts. Just in case. It was the best I could do.”

Jaebum lets out a shaky breath, mind rattled. How could this have been happening? All along? He knew this kind of predatory behavior wasn’t uncommon, in their industry. But JYPE had felt safe, relatively speaking. 

How could he ever make it up to Jinyoung? For doing nothing to stop this?

Why hadn’t he just been a little more available?? Maybe he couldn’t have prevented  _ every _ weird advance — but he could have supported him. 

Why hadn’t he kept wrapping his scarf around Jinyoung, kept him tight by his side?

“I didn’t know,” Jaebum says, looking back up at Jinyoung. He’s seen this face before — his own face, eyes blinking hard like he’s holding back tears.

And the tangible sadness, the bitterness crashes over him like a wave as he sees it played out on his own face. The familiar discomfort. The sympathy, the shame.

“Sometimes I think,” Jaebum murmurs, after a moment of careful, timed breaths. “I must have been so wound up about touchy stuff, because I?” And the idea of talking about it, is crashing down around him all at once, ears ringing. “I’ve been curious, too.”

Jaebum swallows heavy, around the lump that rises in his throat, the creep of embarrassment. “So any time someone brought up something like that. Even your joking about doing things  _ alone _ as  _ two men, _ any stupid little thing just,  _ reminded _ me. That I would always being paying attention to it. That I couldn’t let stuff like that go. I felt like I had to  _ perform _ something, give the right reaction.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything in response, face neutralizing as he listens.

“Honestly,” Jaebum says. “I know I’m not… totally straight, now. But it didn’t feel like it was okay for me to consider, then. I never meant to put it on other people; it was just part of me dealing with my own stuff _ .  _ So I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe.”

Jinyoung tilts his head into a hand, as if it’s weighed down by the information. But he stays quiet. 

Jaebum isn’t sure what else he can offer. He can’t soothe the phantom pains of what’s long scarred over. Instead of saying anything else, reaches out and touches Jinyoung on the knee, tries to find his eyes.

Jinyoung meets his gaze with a furrowed brow, but he finally nods. “Thanks,” he says. “For telling me.”

Another beat passes, and then he reaches out and takes Jaebum’s hand. He knits their fingers together, and stares down at their grip. Each other’s hands, each other’s fingers, zig-zagged. Alternating, like their minds.

“If you need anybody to talk to,” Jinyoung murmurs. “I’m here. Not  _ just _ about  _ that,  _ but...” he cuts himself off with a dry, humorless laugh. “Although you probably think I’m more of a cautionary tale.”

_ “No,” _ Jaebum says, sharply. “I’m not thinking less of you. Not about sugar daddies and not about this. You’ve been really strong, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung crosses his arms then, making Jaebum’s shoulders look small. Shrinking in on himself. “Still, this was never exactly how I pictured my future,” he says, quietly. “What I hoped for.”

Jaebum can relate with this — not that he’s ashamed of his personal life, but of course he’d always sort of dreamt things would work out differently. 

He knew when he tried to become an idol that settling down would be a little more complicated. That it would delay a lot of typical relationship goals or even eliminate them. Dating in secret is one thing. Falling in love in secret is different.

But he’d hoped, against the odds, maybe he’d be an exception. The one who just found a best friend, a soulmate, a partner for life, without really looking for one. 

It’s not fair to compare yourself to your old dreams. 

They lay side by side in Jinyoung’s bed that night — a little smaller than Jaebum’s but not as firm. Neither of them sleep for the first hour or so, just staring up at the ceiling in silence.

“I know you think… I’m not as open with you,” says Jinyoung, eventually. “But there are things I’ve told you, that I haven’t told anybody else.”

Jaebum lets himself frown skeptically, comforted by the total darkness in Jinyoung's bedroom.

“When my grandfather died,” Jinyoung says. “Do you remember that?”

Jaebum does. Training to debut as GOT7, Jinyoung had stayed especially late after dance practice once. Jaebum had come back from the dorms, to collect him.

At the time, he’d been angry — rest was just as important as practice, and he’d thought Jinyoung was being reckless.

But Jinyoung had been crying when Jaebum found him, and so he hadn’t scolded him after all. They’d walked home most of the way in awkward silence, the dark of the night just as welcome as it is now.

Jinyoung had broken down, just before they’d gotten home. Had blubbered out how his grandfather had passed and he’d been thinking about it all day. About how worried he was for his grandmother. About death.

“They were together for 65 years,” Jinyoung had said. “How does she even keep existing without him? Her other half?”

“They’re still with each other,” Jaebum had said after a while, hands shoved into his pockets because he hadn’t known what to do with them. “It’s not over just because they’re not in the same place.”

Jinyoung had buried his face in his hands, and Jaebum had just tried not to watch him for a few minutes. It’s a bittersweet memory, but it persists. And Jaebum had no idea it was unique to them.

“I never told anybody else about that,” Jinyoung continues. “Or what the girls in school said when they used to confess to me, or JJ Project being the inspiration for Mayday. There are parts of me, Jaebum hyung, that I’ve only shared with you. Parts of my heart.”

Jaebum feels faintly foolish, but he just hadn’t known. He had no  _ way _ of knowing.

“And I talk to your mother about once a month,” Jinyoung adds. “On the phone. So forgive me for not asking.”

Jaebum turns, bewildered. “My mom?” He stammers.

“She calls me,” Jinyoung says. “She started when we first debuted and never stopped.”

Jaebum has mixed feelings — a little embarrassed, and foolish again for not knowing. But also a little nervous Jinyoung might find it annoying, clingy.

But: “I really appreciate it,” whispers Jinyoung. “Honestly she hardly even talks about you — she just wants to know how things are going, how I am. She loves you that much. So much that everyone around you gets her love, too.”

Jaebum's throat goes tight, a sharp lump suddenly making swallowing difficult. And now, his eyes are stinging. 

It’s fine he hadn’t known — his mother is remarkable beyond expression, so he’s not even surprised by her tending to other members. He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of them get calls too.

But why did he have to speak so flippantly to Jinyoung? If he’d just left him with the benefit of the doubt, would they even be here in the first place?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, heart practically throbbing against his ribcage. “I thought I was being good to you. By giving you space — but it must look like neglect.”

“You’ve been good to me,” Jinyoung says. “But we could both be better.”

//

A day later, Jaebum is in his own recording studio, working on something new. It’s about illusions, and misconceptions, and sex, and he knows JYPE won’t let it see the light of day. 

So he keeps it for himself, pouring out all the frustration he can and losing himself in the familiar tempo of songwriting. 

The afternoon sun starts to shift, and shadows start to play across his lyrics. He’s been here all day.

With his next blink, he’s in an unfamiliar car.

“Oh no,” Jaebum murmurs, fidgeting against a seatbelt. “Oh, shit.”

“Did you forget something?” Gong Yoo asks, from the driver’s seat. Because of course. Of course, Jaebum has switched with Jinyoung while he was on a date with his sugar daddy. 

Jaebum wonders if he’s gonna be sick.

“Uh,” Jaebum says, glancing up at himself in the mirror. It’s no longer quite such a shock to see Jinyoung’s face staring back, although Jaebum does notice the clumsy weight of lipgloss today, the tickling scent of his cologne. That’s different.

“Uh,” he repeats. “It’s nothing, sunbaenim,” he adds, and even though his voice is undoubtedly Jinyoung’s, he still has a moment of panic about if it sounds right.

Gong Yoo barks out a laugh. “Jinyoung-ah,” he rumbles, “I’ve told you so many times, just call me hyung. Or Yoo. You can speak comfortably with me. Aren’t we comfortable, by now?”

Jaebum feels his cheeks flush, and he wishes he could blame it on Jinyoung’s body. But Yoo is immediately pretty charming, and it settles his nerves a bit. 

There’s something relaxing about everything, actually. They pull up to an art museum and nobody else seems to be visiting that day. 

Jaebum gets all the way through the lobby and the first exhibit hall before it clicks completely. Gong Yoo had closed out the whole museum. Just for Jaebum.

Well, just for Jinyoung.

Jaebum feels, well, taken care of. He’s always enjoyed hanging out with his seniors at the company or in Offshore, and having older friends. It’s nice to take a break from the responsibilities of being a leader, of being a hyung. 

He didn’t think this sort of relationship would make as much sense to him as it sort of, immediately does. 

It’s  _ nice. _

Jaebum wanders along with him through an especially modern installation, trying not to give too much insight that might come across as out of character for Jinyoung. 

How  _ does _ Jinyoung behave on a date? 

Is he bubbly and bright, the way he used to be, when JJ Project debuted? Does he fill up all the corners of conversation with his own questions, with a plucky sense of humor and sparkling, appreciative eyes? Or does he play it cool and coy, like he does in GOT7 promotions — hiding the delight of his laughter with the palm of a hand?

Jaebum wishes he knew. 

In the meantime, he decides to stay quieter, and figures Jinyoung can always excuse it later.

Gong Yoo circles around Jaebum nearly as much as he does the exhibits. It could feel creepy, Jaebum thinks, but Yoo gives him plenty of space, guiding him with gentle nudges to the elbow and making only pleasant conversation. 

Yoo continues to pace leisurely while they take a break to order coffee, eyes roving over Jaebum’s body from a polite distance. 

Jinyoung’s body. A work of art in itself, Jaebum supposes. 

Is this what the men that pay Jinyoung get in exchange? Jaebum hasn’t fully come to terms with that part yet. The attention is, nice, he supposes. And familiar, in a way. He’s seen his own fans lusting after him, after all. 

_ I like to know what to expect,  _ Jinyoung had said to him. 

It’s apparently something like this. And while Jaebum’s sure Jinyoung would be making better conversation, Yoo mainly seems to just enjoy his presence. 

When Yoo suggests they grab some coffee from the museum cafe, Jaebum is grateful for the distraction. Something to hold in his hands, something to think about besides Jinyoung and Yoo and keeping up appearances.

Once they’ve ordered, Jaebum stays awkwardly beside the pick-up counter, glancing between Yoo’s handsome, gentle face and the quick, graceful movements of the baristas. 

He tries to stand up a little straighter, and it makes him feel more at ease. Jinyoung’s trained his body well, likes to stand straight and let his hips align.

“Have you been speaking with Jaebum-ssi lately?” Yoo suddenly asks, a pace away. He fiddles with a souvenir keychain on display.

“Hm?” Jaebum startles, blinking in surprise as his stomach twists. “Sure? We... talk.”

“Is he still giving you a hard time?” Yoo presses, stepping closer. 

Jaebum can sense the proximity of his arm, hand leaning against the counter behind the small of his back. And it’s strange — he’s been groped before, he’s had sex, kissed, all sorts of physical interaction. But the intimate space this creates between their bodies, it makes his chest hum with excitement in a different way. To feel so fixed upon.

But the question: familiar. The insinuation of conflict between him and Jinyoung just keeps coming up. At first, he’d wondered how a witch would know about something so private — but apparently more people know their business than he’d figured. 

“About… us?” Jaebum asks with a frown. This is a little more awkward than he’d expected. And he’d expected a lot of awkward.

Yoo hums.

“I don’t mean... to complain,” Jaebum continues, carefully. He’s unclear what Jinyoung may have told Gong Yoo, but he doubts it would be anything outright hateful. And Jinyoung doesn’t like to seem like he’s out of control, so would he have really asked Yoo for advice?

“Of course not,” Yoo says with a warm smile. “But it’s hard to explain, if somebody doesn’t want to understand.”

They both glance up as the barista slides an iced Americano across the counter. Yoo nods in thanks as she turns away and starts to steam milk loudly next, for Jaebum’s drink.

“It’s hard to explain a different relationship to somebody who… leans so conventional,” Yoo says, rotating his wrist so the ice in his cup shifts. His voice is dropped well below the din of the coffee stand. 

And Jaebum swallows heavy, throat dry and fingers curling into tight, awkward fists. He wants to protest, but he isn’t sure if Jinyoung would defend his open-mindedness. Because what does  _ Yoo _ know about Im Jaebum? Only what Jinyoung’s told him, he supposes. And maybe that hasn’t been his best impression.

“I don’t think he really—,” Jaebum starts to say, and Yoo waves it off. The barista presents a mocha at the bar, and Jaebum is eager to scoop it up, to inhale the sweetness of warm milk and cocoa, to have something to clutch.

“I know, I know,” Yoo says. “He’s not so bad, _hyung_ _means well,_ you say it every time. And so sweetly. You put up with a lot.”

Jaebum’s face burns, and he blocks it with a swig of mocha.  _ Every time? _ It’s too hot, of course, and he hisses a bit as it goes down, tongue and throat aching.

Yoo sniffs in amusement, and he tugs at Jinyoung’s shirt collar, one finger just ghosting along Jaebum’s collarbones. “Easy there,” he rumbles.

Jaebum steps back, nodding and flushing in embarrassment. He presses his hand over his mouth to add some distance, some safety from Yoo’s long fingers. 

He feels bad, sure Jinyoung wouldn’t have let himself be this clumsy. Jaebum sends up a silent apology.

They stroll quietly out into the sculpture garden next, sunlight dappling through leaves as they circle an impossibly tilted mobile. 

“Looks like your last album cover,” Yoo chuckles.

“You listened to it?” Jaebum asks, before he can think about it.

Yoo chuckles, straw slipping from his teeth. “Jinyoung-ah, please,” he says. “Be a little less modest. You gifted me a copy, but it was me who tracked you down after seeing your videos, in the first place.”

Jaebum nods, ears buzzing. And  _ that’s  _ a trip, he thinks — someone like Gong Yoo might be watching their videos and thinking about treating  _ Jaebum _ like this. 

“Was I... the only one who caught your eye?” He asks, trying to keep it light and teasing.

Yoo bursts into a real laugh now, and he draws in close, stroking his fingers down the back of Jaebum’s neck.

It would have tickled anyway, he tries to assure himself. But in Jinyoung’s body, the shiver traces all the way down his spine, curling into the center of him and flushing him with heat. 

That’s — an especially sensitive spot for Jinyoung, Jaebum realizes. 

“There’s the jealous little Jinyoung I know,” Yoo says, eyes and voice low, searing hot. “You were, and are. One of the most captivating people I’ve ever looked at.”

Yoo is staring at his lips. 

“Jinyoung-ah,” he says, voice curling warm and gentle around them both. “I know we talked about boundaries. And I still don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t want. But I just — I need you to know, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Jaebum has to focus on his breathing, hoping his chest doesn’t hitch too noticeably with his nervous inhale. Yoo’s eyes are still on his mouth, but he hasn’t leaned in.

Jaebum blinks back at him, and he wonders, just for a second. What kissing him would be like.

Not that he’s attracted to Yoo — attractive as he may be. Not that he  _ wants _ to kiss him. But there’s something almost scientific in Jabeum’s curiosity. Jaebum thinks he likes men. Wouldn’t this be sort of a neutral way to test it out?

There’s a strange, twisted sense of freedom here. It doesn’t change much for Jinyoung, and no one would ever know Jaebum had kissed a man. Technically, his lips wouldn’t have.

Still, Jaebum thinks it must be inappropriate. It’s misleading for Yoo, as Jinyoung's established these boundaries very specifically. It’s not right for Jaebum to disrupt things.

But Yoo doesn’t move toward him after all. He’s straightened up, looking a little amused, but content. As if just thinking about kissing Jinyoung had been enough.

Jaebum realizes, he  _ had _ been  _ asking. _ And since Jinyoung didn’t consent, he didn’t push it. Gong Yoo is a nice guy. Jaebum likes being treated this well — he can’t complain that Jinyoung’s in bad hands.

But there’s still a persistent, overwhelming curiosity. It’s one thing to be on a date, posing  _ as  _ Jinyoung.

What would being on a date  _ with Jinyoung _ be like? And how about  _ kissing _ him? Especially since he didn’t even do that with his sugar daddy.

Jaebum and Jinyoung had actually played quite a few kissing games before, with sheets of paper, pepero sticks and snacks just barely keeping them apart. 

And now he’s stuck thinking about their appearances on Kiss the Radio, how Jinyoung had grabbed Jaebum’s neck, assertive even as crumbs fell from his mouth. And that gummy worm had been so hard to bite cleanly, so their lips had really touched. Jinyoung had tried his best to tuck his thick lips back, but it was impossible to avoid, faces crammed in close, breath hot on each other’s cheeks.

Jaebum had been left a little breathless, and they had been awkward around each other for a few weeks each time. 

One of the things he could still remember, viscerally, was how Jinyoung’s skin had smelled. Like soft, mellow cleanser or lotion, and just a little bit of salt from sweat. For some reason, Jaebum thought about it often. Thought about how he’d really taste. 

What on earth would a real kiss do to him?

Gong Yoo takes him home, parking discreetly in the underground lot, a hat pulled low over his features now. Jaebum’s impressed he even risks it, doesn’t rely on any scurrying between vans. 

“I had such a good time with you,” he tells Jaebum, and it sounds sincere. “I always do.”

Yoo insists on walking Jaebum up to Jinyoung’s door to say goodbye. Jaebum’s face  _ burns _ the entire walk to the elevator. Not just with lingering discomfort, from flirting with someone else’s… partner? All afternoon. 

But also, Jaebum wonders. When did the curiosity, spinning so tightly in his gut, turn into some kind of yearning? 

Did he  _ want _ to go on a date with Jinyoung?

As they approach the apartment, Jaebum considers how to stall, wondering how to pretend it’s totally normal to forget your own door code. But once they reach Jinyoung’s doormat, Jaebum has barely laid a finger on the handle when it swings inward.

Jinyoung stands there, in Jaebum’s body, shamelessly staring out at Gong Yoo with sharp, intimidating eyes.

“Good evening,” he blurts out.

“Um,” says Jaebum loudly. “ _ Jaebum _ hyung. I didn’t know you’d be dropping by—!”

“Nice to meet you,” Gong Yoo says, politely offering a handshake. He introduces himself.

Jinyoung plays along, shaking Yoo’s hand and bowing. He’s sliding suspicious eyes across at Jaebum as he straightens back up, however. Jaebum wonders if he’s worried Yoo had said something. Or maybe he’s worried Jaebum’s misrepresented him.

“You’re here for…” Yoo trails off, not quite asking the question. But Jaebum notices his body tensing beside his, notices the way he’s drawn himself a little bit taller than he’d been at the museum. Does he find Jaebum... intimidating?

Jaebum figures it might be a little awkward to drop off your sugar baby only to find another man waiting for him. But surely he knows Jaebum doesn’t pose a threat.

“Music,” Jinyoung says vaguely, through gritted teeth. And now Jaebum wonders if he’s… jealous? Weirdly? “But don’t let me interrupt,” he carries on, stepping aside. “I just started up the espresso machine.” 

Jaebum tries to bite back an impatient huff. No way is he third-wheeling through some weird, proxy nightcap.

“I’m,” Jaebum puts a hand up. “I’m sorry not to invite you in, Yoo hyung. But I have to—,” and he racks his brain, scrambling for an excuse. How does he usually get out of awkward situations? 

“Use the bathroom,” Jaebum finally blurts out, putting a hand to his belly.

Jinyoung boggles at him, looking appalled.

Yoo visibly shifts his weight. “It’s really no problem?” he says, stepping backward. “I should just head out.”

“Park Jinyoung,” Jinyoung hisses. “What are you saying!”

“Sorry,” Jaebum bowing as he tiptoes past Jinyoung’s shoulder, further into the apartment so he can step out of his shoes. “I um, I think that mocha might’ve been a bit off.”

Yoo looks embarrassed as he starts to turn away. “Milk can turn quickly,” he says, weakly. 

_ That’s right,  _ Jaebum thinks, a sudden burst of spite in his chest.  _ Even  _ captivating _ Park Jinyoung poops. _

“A  _ mocha?”  _ Jinyoung repeats, eyes narrow. “You’re on a diet!”

“Ah,” Yoo chuckles again, weaker this time. “It must be nice to have all the other members looking out for your health, too. Wish I had a reminder, sometimes.”

Jaebum nods and bows shortly again, hoping he’ll just get on his way. 

And Gong Yoo remains polite, waving warmly, even at the end of the strangest date he’ll never fully understand. “Take care,” he says, gently, and then the door shuts, and Jaebum is left alone with Jinyoung.

“What the fuck!” Jinyoung says, shoving Jaebum. His back hits the wall, a picture frame rattling next to his ear. They keep ending up in this scenario.

“Yah!” Jaebum snarls. “I’m still the hyung here. And this is  _ not _ my fault, you must have hiccuped or something. Don’t worry, I stayed prissy and coy all the way through your museum date.”

Jinyoung pounds his firsts against his chest, but it’s weak, resigned. “I’d been looking forward to that alternative language exhibition for _ ages,” _ he pouts, and Jaebum feels his own expression soften, heart twinging. “We talked about it last month and I was  _ so _ excited.”

“Hey, he…” Jaebum starts, and then scoops up Jinyoung’s hands as they slip away — Jaebum’s own, still disorienting when he looks down at them. “He booked the whole place, you know,” he tells him. “He didn’t just take you to the exhibit.”

Jinyoung’s mouth parts, and Jaebum takes note — he can still be impressed. Maybe he isn’t living as spoiled of a fantasy life as Jaebum imagined.

“The entire museum...?” Jinyoung asks.

His hands tremble, Jaebum’s thumb skipping over his wrists. He feels his pulse there, likes the way it matches up with his, through the warmth of their skin.

“Mm,” says Jaebum, quietly. “He seems... like a really nice guy.” He isn’t sure if he should mention Yoo wanting to kiss him. The idea might be weirder than it is comforting.

The fight drained out of him, Jinyoung shrinks back. He looks mildly regretful, but he doesn’t apologize, eyebrows set straight and low as he lets out a weary sigh. This is exhausting, without a doubt.

Something spikes in Jaebum’s chest, the sudden need to make things better, the need to coax a smile out of Jinyoung again.

Jaebum shoves his wrists back at him, playfully smirking. “I’m too strong to be pushed around, when we’re swapped like this,” he scolds him. “I’m not your old, pushover hyung right now.”

Jinyoung laughs, loud and sudden, and then he looks almost surprised at himself for warming up again.

“Hyung,” he says lowly, from under heavy lids and fluttering lashes. “You can still take me,” and before Jaebum can quite process it, he’s lifted Jaebum up, hands clutched under his thighs.

They’re both chuckling, awkward and clumsy as he presses him back into the wall.

Jaebum arches his back a little, subconsciously maybe. It just feels like the right thing to do, Jinyoung’s thighs astride Jaebum’s naturally narrow waist.

But then he realizes they’re awfully close, and it’s — intimate, in a way that Jaebum doesn’t totally understand. They’ve wrestled before, bodies slotting together and legs tangling. And it’s never felt… dangerous. 

But then, everything’s more disorienting with this body swap. Is the reaction he feels his own? Or is it just physical, purely involuntary?

Is it somehow Jinyoung’s — would  _ he _ like the way Jaebum fits between his thighs?

“Hey,” Jaebum says, breathless. “Put me down.”

_ “Why~?”  _ Jinyoung asks, teasing tone almost melodic. He leans in a little. “I’m not an old, pushover hyung, either. I’m just in his body.”

Jaebum snickers, and he tries to wiggle out of Jinyoung’s grip. It shifts their hips together, and Jinyoung sucks in a sharp breath, leaning back. Jaebum watches his eyes darken, darting down to Jaebum’s waist.

“You—,” Jaebum stutters, suddenly desperate for a distraction. A change in topic — anything to think about besides them grinding up against each other accidentally. Ah.

“You know I’ve been wondering, lately,” he says with a smirk. “Was  _ My Youth _ like a personal ad for you?”

“Yah!” Jinyoung drops him with a stilted gasp of laughter and Jaebum slides to the floor in a heap of chuckles.

_ “Still so youuung~,”  _ Jaebum warbles.

Jinyoung wobbles for a moment and then drops into a squat, giggling quietly along with him. “Just because you’re in my body doesn’t mean you have to be so annoying,” he murmurs.

Jaebum barks out another laugh and then rubs at his eyes. “Well,” he says. “Guess you’re hosting, tonight. What movie are we watching?”

Jinyoung hums and then pops back up to his feet, padding off softly into the kitchen. “Espresso first,” he says. “You got a mocha at a museum with a pretty man, but I got stuck here with nothing.”

Jaebum gathers himself together again with a sigh, standing back up with a wobble. He tries not to think about the lingering buzz at the back of his thigh, where Jinyoung’s fingers had dug into him.

He tags along after Jinyoung, eyes roving over his walls and decor. His apartment is a little cluttered for Jaebum’s tastes, but he’s pleasantly mesmerized, always finding something strange and interesting to examine.

As he leans over the kitchen island and watches Jinyoung flit about in his body, he thinks it’s a shame he can’t look at Jinyoung, as himself.

“You  _ are _ getting coffee with a pretty man,” Jaebum says, then. “Since  _ you _ get to look at  _ you.”  _

The coffee grinder on the machine is loud, and Jinyoung looks a bit distracted as it measures out two shots, like he hadn’t heard him. And maybe it’s for the best.

But when he locks the portafilter into place and lets it brew, he slides curious eyes back at Jaebum. “Jaebum-ah,” he says, chiding. “You know you’re beautiful, don’t you?”

Jaebum sputters out a laugh, feels his ears heat up with embarrassment. “You’re the one who said they got stuck with nothing,” he murmurs.

Jinyoung busies himself for a moment, cleaning after himself and taking a tiny sip. “Well,” he says. “I thought we’d sort of agreed not to touch our bodies without each other present. So I couldn’t get up to much while you were gone...”

He wanders off towards the living room, the aroma of rich, dark coffee trailing after him.

Jaebum’s brain stutters, and it takes him a moment to recover, from the insinuation of Jinyoung at home,  _ exploring _ Jaebum’s body. The body he just called  _ beautiful. _

He’s sure Jinyoung is just teasing him. There was a laughing lilt in his voice as he said it. But since when does teasing feel so good?

He finds Jinyoung in his living room, espresso cup balanced precariously atop his laptop, while he flicks on his mounted projector. Jaebum moves it to an end table.

“I’ve been wanting to watch The Handmaiden,” he tells Jaebum. “I’m sure you’ve probably already seen it, but for some reason I never got around to it.”

Jinyoung’s life is charming, Jaebum thinks to himself. This house, the things he likes. And Jinyoung is so romantic, so interesting. Why would he feel like he can’t have a real boyfriend? 

_ It’s too difficult, _ he’d said. It can’t be any messier than an award-winning actor dropping him off at his door, begging for kisses in a flimsy cap.

“Hey,” Jaebum says, suddenly, flopping onto the couch. “Are you really attracted to Gong Yoo-ssi? If you could date him — if he wanted to make things more serious. Would you?”

Jinyoung has snatched up his computer and holds it practically sideways, finger hovering over the trackpad as the titles are queued up. Jaebum’s glad he moved the coffee.

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung says after a beat, and it sounds sincere. “I guess maybe it’d be stupid not to. Since I don’t have a lot of options.”

_ “No,” _ Jaebum blurts out. Suddenly more sure of it than ever. “No way. You should go for what you want.”

Jinyoung stares at him silently for a moment, and then looks back down at his laptop, biting into his lip. Jaebum’s lip. “Can you hit the lights?” He finally asks.

//

The movie fades into its credits with a jingling of bells, and Jaebum swallows a lump in his throat. He shifts on the sofa nervously, trying to hide his other swollen reaction.

It’s not so much about the sex scenes — although it’s those, too. It’s also the defiance, the coded messaging of something secret being able to triumph. That could be dangerous, Jaebum thinks, if he lets himself sink too deeply into it.

He plucks at the front of his jeans, trying to get a little more space without looking like he’s trying.

But as soon as he looks up, he’s caught by Jinyoung’s waiting gaze — in his own narrow, dark eyes. Jinyoung has noticed he’s hard, almost as if he’d been waiting for it to happen. And maybe he had. His body, and all.

“You haven’t asked me,” he says, and he leans into Jaebum’s space on the couch. 

The arm around the back of the cushions has suddenly shifted down around his shoulders. Jaebum notes, once again, their slight difference in width — and how Jinyoung likes to use his own breadth against him.

“I begged you for help,” Jinyoung says, “on only the second day. But we’ve switched lots of times now, and you haven’t let me return the favor.”

Jaebum lets out a shaky breath, fingers digging into the fabric of the armrest. “It just hasn’t  _ needed  _ any help,” he says. “Your body hasn’t — it’s been fine.”

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says, but it sounds like  _ bullshit,  _ and he peers down at where Jaebum’s jeans are tented. “I’ve had my own room since GOT7’s first dorm. My body is definitely not used to abstaining.”

Jaebum shifts slightly, not sure what to say. He’d been ignoring any and all urges, despite their agreement. He knew it was unfair — Jaebum had been in charge of their last encounter and he was grateful for that.

But on some level, it was still too strange for him. As simplistic as Jinyoung had framed it, just “touching himself,” he had still been touching Jinyoung, in some way. 

And bodyswap aside, that feels over the line.

Still, the other members talk about him pushing Jinyoung away keeps churning about in his brain. This would make them — closer in one way, after all.

So if Jinyoung wants to jerk his body off — maybe Jaebum should just let him. Then at least they’ll be even in some respects, and that might help with their balance, magically.

“Alright,” Jaebum murmurs, breath shaky. He moves to unbutton his jeans, but Jinyoung is quicker, reaching across and snapping them open.

Jaebum’s aching now, as his erection springs free, throbbing in plain sight. And it’s his first time looking at Jinyoung’s cock, because he’s honestly tried his best to respect his privacy. 

But there it is — flushing pink and wet at the tip already. Not quite as thick as Jaebum’s own, but as Jinyoung grips him with his stout fingers, it’s just as sensitive. 

“Agh,” Jaebum’s already biting back a groan. The pressure from Jinyoung’s fist is even and hot, jerks short and swift. 

He’s barely started a rhythm when something shifts in the air between them, and his hand stills.

There’s a creak of the couch springs, and then Jinyoung is slipping down onto the floor, between Jaebum’s knees.

“Do you mind if I do it like this?” Jinyoung asks, breathless, and Jaebum watches in mute confusion as his own face hovers the closest it’s ever been to a cock.

“With — you want to use your mouth?” Jaebum sputters. “Isn’t that — sort of? Sort of a question for  _ you?  _ Are you okay with sucking your own dick?”

Jinyoung, to his credit, doesn’t blush. He nods, sharply. “I’ll be using your mouth,” he points out. “Is that okay? With you? And you’ll be the one cumming. Do you want that?”

Jaebum’s mind is spinning, ears roaring with the rush of blood away from his head. But he nods, in a daze, cock pulsing. 

Because yes, it’s fucking bizarre. But yes, he wants it. 

_ Sort of  _ — he corrects himself. This exact circumstance isn’t ideal. 

What he wants is this: this closeness between them. The curl of fingers at his thigh — Jinyoung’s thigh, whatever — and the warm puff of breath against skin.

Jinyoung doesn’t waste time, lips pressing to the head of his cock as Jaebum watches in a daze. 

He nearly thrusts forward as Jinyoung swipes his tongue around the slit, nearly cries out already as he drops all the way down. 

The heat enveloping him is intense, slick and abstract if he closes his eyes. And maybe that’s for the best — watching his own mouth stretch out around a cock is disorienting. But eyes shut, it just feels good.

Jinyoung slides off with a little gasp. “God, hyung,” he says, “You really haven’t got any gag reflex.”

Jaebum groans, more in frustration than pleasure this time. “Is that weird?” He manages. Weak.

“I guess the corn dog stuff should’ve tipped me off,” Jinyoung says, and before Jaebum can even chuckle, he feels his mouth close down around his cock again.

Jaebum’s slapping a hand over his eyes now, half-laughing and half-choking out a sob. It’s too much to process. The sticky sweet feeling of Jinyoung’s hot mouth, the bewildering reality that it’s his own, and Jinyoung’s absolutely insipid sense of humor.

He’s torn between thrusting blindly, into the hot ring of his lips, and morbidly cautious about examining how his face looks as it’s sucking dick. 

Sucking  _ Jinyoung’s  _ dick, he reminds himself, and somehow that feels a bit better. Like it’s not nearly as out of place as he’d been thinking.

So he opens his eyes, for just a second, and it’s so, so strange.

There’s his hand, thick fingers curled around, snug at the base and sliding slow. Up and down behind his mouth. His mouth, stretched wide and bulging, dipping down the shaft. 

Jinyoung’s got his eyes closed, and Jaebum whimpers a bit — he looks good. It’s not something Jaebum would have thought would be sexy, since it’s so strange and far removed from any of his other sexual experiences. 

But Jaebum sucking dick, it’s honestly sexy, even to himself.

Maybe his hangups about it aren’t that deep — maybe it’s as simple as admitting it turns him on. 

He starts to think, inevitably, about his last girlfriend. How she used to feel, little red lips cresting over the head, hand working the rest. He can’t help the comparison.

But Jinyoung’s entire approach feels different, raw and brutal like he wants to make himself gag. He takes Jaebum deep, sliding down until his nose bumps into the sparse patch of hair at the base. 

Jaebum gasps at the sight: his own head buried between Jinyoung’s thighs, and then he has to shut his eyes again because the pleasure’s overwhelming.

Jaebum’s starting to wonder if Jinyoung’s been hiding magical powers too, if he’s working some sort of a spell on him as he slobbers back up and then bobs back down.

Eyes screwed tight, thrusting forward shamelessly as he chases after the stroke of Jinyoung’s tongue and the pulse of his throat, Jaebum sees stars.

“God,” he whimpers, and then his vision shimmers, shudders, and shifts. Eyes still shut, his senses start to smear, and it feels like he can smell the sweaty musk at the crux of Jinyoung’s thighs, and he chokes a bit, throat feeling full as he tastes salt, the bitter pulse of precome. Carpet biting against his knees. In Jaebum’s original body.

And then he opens his eyes, and he’s on the sofa staring at the ceiling again, gasping for air, still in Jinyoung’s body. 

Jinyoung has slowed his pace, drawing back slow, with a whimper. “Hyung,” he whispers, lips tickling as he lets go of his cock.

They’d switched. For just a second, they’d sparked back between each other. Jaebum had tasted Jinyoung’s cock, in his own mouth and Jinyoung had been the one on the couch with his head flung back, hips flexing forward.

Jaebum’s pulse hammers in his wrists, and he tugs Jinyoung’s head back by his hair. “Please,” he whispers. Maybe this is what they need. Maybe this will fix it.

And maybe he doesn’t even care if that means Jinyoung would finish in his mouth. Maybe he would be okay with it, the taste of him shooting down the back of his throat.

Jinyoung complies, ducking down and slurping him back up, and Jaebum fucks into his mouth, eyes screwed shut.

Jaebum feels Jinyoung hitch his knee up, just over his shoulder, and then a hand sweeps under his ass. Jaebum barely has time to gasp before he feels the finger budging against him, and then he pushes Jinyoung’s head back with a panicked whine.

“Wait,” he stammers, squinting an eye open, “wait, what are you—?”

“I like it like this,” Jinyoung says, voice deep, and then darts a middle finger in and out of his mouth with a loud, slick pop.

Jaebum’s dick twitches as if in response, and Jinyoung returns to licking at it idly as he gazes up at Jaebum, waiting for an answer. His hand traces back down under his balls in the meantime. The back of his blunt nail traces down along the tender skin at his taint and Jaebum whines and writhes.

“But I—,” he says, and Jinyoung pauses, still mouthing slowly along the side of his dick, smearing his lips against it as he waits. He’s still got Jaebum’s knee over his shoulder, is still tipping him back and open and exposed.

“I—I haven’t,” Jaebum says. He just hasn’t tried this before. He knows it’s Jinyoung’s body, and maybe that should make it seem easier? But this would still be his first time.

“You could just try it?” Jinyoung whispers. “We can stop if you don’t like it.” 

Then he keeps eye contact as he flicks his tongue deliberately in a zigzag across the head of Jaebum’s cock. 

Jaebum lets out a broken sort of sigh, hips jolting in surprise.

“See?” Jinyoung whispers. “I know where I’m sensitive.”

And yeah, that would make sense, and something in Jaebum’s scattered, sex-drunk mind sparks into ignition.

“Okay,” he chokes out, and Jinyoung ducks his head back down, taking his dick deep and swallowing around it once more. 

Jaebum’s brain goes hazy with arousal again, barely registering the soft nudging of Jinyoung’s finger while he sucks at him hard, slick and deep.

But then his fingertip is just barely pressing, just a touch of wetness past the ring of muscle. And he hooks it ever so slightly, gentle and shallow, and Jaebum jolts at the feeling.

He barely starts to  _ think _ the word fuck, and then Jinyoung presses it in deeper, nudging against his insides and that’s when Jaebum’s vision goes static.

“Fu— _ ck,”  _ Jaebum bites out, and Jinyoung hums around his dick. If Jaebum was paying attention maybe he’d think it smug. But for now, he just fucks forward and rides out the pressure, chasing that sparkle of ecstasy wherever he can.

Another little spark, and their consciousness slip-strikes against each other again. Jaebum thinks he can feel Jinyoung’s ass clenching hot around a finger. He’s certain Jinyoung’s gripping himself, because he feels the firm press of palm digging into him too. 

The arousal keeps building, the edge of sweet release just out of reach, and Jaebum can’t keep track of where he is. It’s a delirious loop of pleasure, of pressure, of blind sensation and the pursuit of bliss. 

And the fact that he knows Jinyoung’s so hard, throbbing just from the taste of cock in his mouth, sets Jaebum’s nerves on fire, hips bucking harder. He likes this, he wants it, and Jaebum knows he does, too.

Jaebum’s never made this much noise during a blowjob before, and he isn’t sure if part of it is Jinyoung’s body’s sensitivity, or the overwhelming wealth of new sensation.

Jinyoung hikes his shirt up his belly, rolling it up past his chest, and shoves the fabric into Jaebum’s mouth. “Bite down,” he instructs, voice thick. 

Jaebum does, though he groans around the makeshift gag anyway. His teeth clench hard into the cotton, hips flexing, eyes watering.

Jinyoung comes first, dragging his mouth off of Jaebum, the groan and gasp ghosting along the sensitive skin of his shaft. Then Jaebum can’t hold back his own release as if in response, spasms wracking his body as he thrusts out of rhythm, hips arched up off the couch and thighs tense.

Spurt after spurt, Jaebum opens his eyes to watch it splatter against his own features, and he feels the ghostly warmth of it for just a second, hot against skin. 

That shouldn’t feel so good, shouldn’t make Jaebum wish it really was him, but it does.

Then Jinyoung’s panting, wet mouth wide open and face glistening, sticky with sweat and cum. He wipes some away with the back of his palm, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at Jaebum.

Jaebum watches the cum drag down along the angle of his jaw —  _ his own jaw  _ — and again, it shouldn’t be so sexy. It’s not supposed to be sexy, is it? To see your own face, debauched, sticky with your friend’s spunk?

It takes Jaebum a few seconds to form words again.

“What was... that?” He asks, breathless.

Jinyoung shakes his head, dabbing at his face with his shirt hem, equally lost. “I felt you,” he says, voice hoarse. “I felt like — I felt like I was me, and  _ you _ were doing it, on and off.”

Jaebum wonders absently if he’ll have a sore throat tomorrow. If  _ they’ll _ have a sore throat tomorrow? He nods slowly, peering down to try and find Jinyoung’s briefs and sweats where they’ve been shoved down around his ankles.

“Oh,” Jinyoung murmurs, moving to help him to get them back up his calves. And then they stop and look at each other, both of their hands on his underwear and halfway up.

“Um,” says Jaebum loudly, and then he wrangles himself back into the briefs and off the couch in two awkward, shuffling sidesteps. 

This feels especially strange, the delirious haze of sex lifted and Jaebum left half-naked with Jinyoung. 

Still in the wrong bodies, and not quite in the right relationship to offer any degree of aftercare. It feels like walking on sore, blistered feet. 

Jaebum paces anyway, eyes desperately moving around the decor of Jinyoung’s living room, finding himself in too many group photos and then dragging a hand across his eyes in exhaustion. What the fuck are they doing to themselves?

Jaebum thought this would make things easier, but with their minds swapping in and out of their bodies like someone’s frenetically cross-fading tracks in a song, it feels more chaotic than it did before.

And Jinyoung is involved with someone else. However much Jinyoung tries to downplay the emotional aspect of that relationship, Jaebum had felt it for himself. 

Gong Yoo had wanted to kiss Jinyoung, wanted to connect with him even more. 

Also, Jaebum  _ doesn’t usually fuck guys, _ he reminds himself feebly. Sure, he’d felt fine admitting he’s been curious, but it’s another thing to actually make it happen. To let a man pleasure him. 

Even if it happens in Jinyoung’s body, he finally understands. It’s still happening  _ to _ Jaebum.

“Do you mind if I shower first?” Jinyoung asks, brushing past him.

Jaebum hums positively enough that Jinyoung doesn’t turn back. Then Jaebum watches his own wide shoulders slide into the bathroom doorway across the hall, light flickering on as the door clicks shut.

Jinyoung is acting like it isn’t a big deal.

Maybe that’s for Jaebum’s benefit — and he appreciates it to some degree. He’s not ready to talk. Doesn’t know what he’d even say.

But is this how it’s going to be for them?

Are they only going to be close, when they’re in each other’s bodies? The rest of the time, are they just going to keep acting like everything is  _ fine _ — even when this clearly means it isn’t? 

Jinyoung acts normally the rest of the night. He makes Jaebum sit still on the toilet so he can apply his skincare regimen to his own face, fussing with gentler taps than Jaebum typically bothers. 

They both end up tucking into his bed at the end of the night, Jinyoung insisting it’s no bother. 

“I want to wake up comfortable,” he says. “And since we don’t know which one of us we’ll be, it’s just easier this way.”

Some of their old boundaries have seemed to scar over. But Jaebum isn’t sure sharing a bed like regular friends is enough of a development to clear up this magic mess.

Still, he’s grateful not to be left out on the couch. 

And Jinyoung’s deep, even breath so close beside him gently puts him to sleep, a lullaby instead of a distraction.

//

In the morning, they’ve settled back into their respective bodies, and Jaebum lazes a little longer in bed, watching Jinyoung go about his morning routine.

He can’t help but find some domestic charm to this, different from when they used to share a dorm. The privacy of it changes the tone entirely — although Jinyoung’s still acting like nothing is out of the ordinary.

But how often does Jaebum get to watch, from bed, as Jinyoung slips his pajama bottoms down and off his legs? As he tugs his t-shirt off and hunts around the pile of clothing on his armchair, in nothing but another pair of pastel boxer briefs?

Jaebum grips the duvet up tightly, spit suddenly thick in his throat as he watches. There’s something hot and hungry uncurling inside him, thinking about how his mouth had been on that body just the day before.

Jinyoung slips a black tee over his head, and it hangs, oversized, just to where the curve of his bottom meets his thick, toned thigh. He turns back, and that’s when Jaebum recognizes the rapper on the front of the shirt.

“Yah,” he says, sitting up. The duvet slips down his bare chest, and he flushes, dragging it back up in a bluster. “That’s mine!”

Jinyoung blinks back at him innocently. “It’s comfortable,” he says.

“That’s—!” Jaebum lets out a huff, fingers uncurling from the blanket and scooting forward, shame forgotten. “That’s not the point. That’s not how this  _ works.  _ What am I supposed to wear home?”

Jinyoung’s lips, naturally upturned, veer down into a pout. 

“I was going to make breakfast,” he says. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Jaebum doesn’t, but this is just getting weirder and weirder by the minute. Blood roaring in his ears, he nods. “Yeah,” he says, stiffly. “Yes, I have to meet up with somebody.”

Jinyoung licks his teeth, eyes going blank, and turns away. He twists easily out of the shirt as he does it, tossing it back over his shoulder and quickly finding another option.

Jaebum’s tee hits him in the face, and once he’s shoved himself into it again he catches the fleeting glimpse of Jinyoung wandering out of the room in a smaller shirt, still pantless.

Jaebum fumbles around for his phone, breath short. 

He stares down at his texts for a full minute. His thumb shifts, slowly. 

His ex-girlfriend’s conversation is still there. It hasn’t really been that long. They split on good terms, had even hooked up twice since then with a mutual understanding of no emotional attachment. Wouldn’t that be nice and familiar?

Jaebum fucks without the dates, the commitment. Jinyoung dates without the sexual gratification. Maybe they aren’t living that differently, after all. So why is Jaebum so confused by it?

Frustrated, he scrolls back up and punches at Yoo Youngjae’s name instead. He needs some advice.

//  
  



	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Back with more of this rollercoaster! It took me a little longer this week as my workload has been ramping up and I've run out of chapters that I had started ahead. So might not be able to promise weekly updates from here on out but I'm doing my best to try and keep things moving. 
> 
> As always, scenes from my outlines tend to accordion out a little longer than expected, so I actually split this one earlier than expected. But still a good chunk of story to sink into, and I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think :3

**Jaebum**

“Is it the age or the gender thing?” Yoo Youngjae asks him, frankly.

Jaebum stirs the rest of the whipped cream into his strawberry shake, frowning down at the pretty drink like it’s offended him.

“It’s—I’m not,” Jaebum stops himself. “It’s probably the age thing,” he settles on. That’s as much as he feels comfortable addressing with Youngjae, for now. “Elders, they’re supposed to look out for us. This feels like he’s taking advantage of Jinyoung’s feelings.”

“I thought you said, Jinyoung himself insisted it wasn’t about  _ love,” _ Youngjae punctuates this with a loud slurp. “What emotions are there to take advantage of?”

It’s hard to put into words. The same sort of deep-seated objection he couldn’t explain to Jinyoung, either.

But somewhere, deep down, he knows... Jinyoung is  _ romantic. _ Where’s the  _ story _ in this? The soaring sense of innocence woven into his lyrics? This feels stale, jaded.

“Jaebum-ah,” Youngjae says, a bit chiding when he doesn’t reply. “You’re an  _ idol,  _ yeah? You know, like the rest of us. It feels good. Sometimes, just being wanted feels good.”

Jaebum frowns, tilting his head. “It’s not that I don’t get the  _ wanting,”  _ he says. “I honestly get the appeal of it. And the special treatment. Like this guy booked a whole museum out for a date. I get all of that. Getting special treatment feels…  _ special.” _

“But?” Youngjae prompts, when Jaebum trails off.

“Doesn’t he  _ deserve _ better?” Jaebum says.

“What does better mean?” Youngjae asks. “Love??”

It strikes Jaebum as juvenile, but it is what he meant. What’s bothering him, deep down. He stays stubbornly silent.

“Jaebum,” Youngjae continues, crisp and careful with his tone. “I’m sure you mean well. I  _ know _ you mean well. You don’t want him to get hurt, obviously. But Jinyoung’s grown — it’s  _ his _ business, and he has to take care of himself.”

The words hang heavy between them for a moment, as Jaebum chews down on the concept once more.

Jaebum knows Youngjae doesn’t mean anything malicious by it. He knows he hasn’t the faintest clue of how this resonates so closely with their history, and with Jinyoung’s.

“Of course,” says Jaebum, nearly spitting the words out.

Youngjae watches him for another moment, stirring his drink with a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Or think about this,” Youngjae continues. “If he really wanted a relationship, wouldn’t he be in one, already?”

And Jaebum thinks back to  _ that _ conversation, with Jinyoung explaining how high the stakes were, for a boyfriend. Of how they’d both agreed a relationship with someone close to him could be just as dangerous.

“No,” Jaebum says. “Frankly, I think he’s settling. Because he hasn’t found something  _ real _ that’s worth the risk.”

Youngjae shrugs, a smile forming. “So he can join the club,” he jokes. “It’s like that for everybody. Love is all about timing. When somebody  _ really _ demonstrates love—,” and maybe Youngjae doesn’t actually pause here, but it  _ feels _ like he does, like his eyes go a little sharper.

“Maybe then, he can take a leap. But a little fun in the meantime isn’t hurting anybody. It’s not like... you have anything better in mind.”

He really  _ does  _ pause here, and Jaebum stubbornly busies himself with a long, loud sip of his drink.

“You guys are about to drop a comeback soon, right?” Jaebum tries to steer the conversation back onto more familiar rails.

But Youngjae laughs out loud at him, shaking his head. “Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, let me just say one more thing.”

Jaebum stretches back in his seat, arms crossed as he squints, suspicious but staying quiet.

“It’s okay,” Youngjae says. “To admit to yourself, that maybe you want to explore something—?”

“Stop! We are not doing  _ this,” _ Jaebum groans, exasperated. He’d felt comfortable talking to Jinyoung about his sexuality, but he isn’t sure he’s ready to roll out a banner for everyone in his life.

“Okay,” Youngjae puts his hands up as if in surrender. “But look, regardless of your own state of mind. Or state of heart, or dick, or  _ whatever.  _ You can’t take that out on Jinyoung.”

Jaebum shifts, uncomfortable. He’s not doing that, is he?

But then he thinks about Mark, Jackson & BamBam’s certainty on the matter.  _ You treat him differently, _ they’d said.  _ Like he’s contagious, _ Mark had said.

And more damning, the persistent memory of himself scooting away from Jinyoung as trainees. The burn of curiosity, the question in his eyes, and the little mole on his lips. 

And leaving him this morning, the burning realization of how it all had made him feel, to see him so comfortable in Jaebum’s shirt, making breakfast. 

“I’m not,” Jaebum promises. But what if it’s too late? 

//

Jaebum doesn’t see Jinyoung for three days in a row. Which could be dangerous, he knows. But they’ve both been so busy, and their bodies have been temporarily behaving.

He tries not to think about it — their issue still brimming just under the surface. But if Jinyoung doesn’t want to address it, what can Jaebum do?

He feels helpless, which is rare in his personal life. It’s not that he can’t surrender control — but it’s uncomfortable. He gets so much pushback at the company, he definitely knows how to deal with it on a professional level.

But privately, he isn’t sure if he really knows how to let someone else take initiative. And not being able to fix his problems overnight, with a breakup text, a good long nap and some spicy food, is unfamiliar territory.

He’s trying very pointedly  _ not _ to think about it now, chopping some veggies for soup into tiny, perfectly neat matchsticks. He tries not to think about it as he stares down into the bright red of his broth, watching it bubble and froth and pop like a potion. 

Jaebum still hasn’t entirely processed this revelation of  _ magic _ yet, either. And he supposes if someone offered him this information from a different perspective, it might seem like a bigger deal. A shock to his concept of reality. 

But having lived through the actual switch, the slide in their consciousness, the way he’d stared straight into his own eyes and had known Jinyoung was behind them? Magic was the only explanation.

And on top of that, was magic so unbelievable? Music felt like magic, sometimes. So did sex. And maybe, other feelings?

Jaebum drags a spoon through the pot, chewing on his bottom lip.

Where’s Jinyoung now? Has he eaten dinner? And why does Jaebum suddenly feel guilty, nauseous about not knowing?

He reaches for his phone, thinking about sending him a text. Just a friendly invitation. This is too much soup for Jaebum, anyway.

And then, a crash of something shattering rings out behind him. Jaebum turns, heart skipping as he wonders what’s happened.

But what’s happening in the next blink is his breath shuddering into different lungs. There’s suddenly a lump in the back of his throat and his eyes are burning.

He’s in Jinyoung’s body, in a van. Jinyoung’s manager is flipping idly through a magazine in the driver's seat. In the middle row, Jaebum is posed tense, fingers gripped around Jinyoung’s phone, lit up and open to a text conversation.

The last messages are from Jinyoung, forty minutes ago. 

8:27pm

_ Van’s here hyung _

_ can’t wait to see you _

_ Whenever you’re ready _

“Jinyoungie,” his manager says, not unkind but not looking up from the magazine. “I’m sure he just had something come up.”

And it’s strange — Jaebum doesn’t feel anything emotionally, but the lingering physical effects of Jinyoung’s disappointment are still here, wound up tight throughout his body. His jaw, sore from clenched teeth, a throat raw with choked back words, and eyes that sting like they might have been on the verge of tears.

“Hyung,” Jaebum says to Jinyoung’s manager, voice weak. “Could you please take me over to Jaebum hyung’s place, instead?”

The manager turns to look at him then, magazine drooping as he lifts a puzzled eyebrow. “Were you… invited?” He asks.

Jaebum hates that he understands the question. After everyone’s insistent explanation of their distance, it’s not a surprise that this would be, well, a surprise. 

“He just texted me,” Jaebum nods, flicking open the text thread to his own contact, and tapping out a quick message.

9:18pm

_ omw. Turn the soup down and help yourself  _

There’s a pause, and Jaebum stares out the window as the manager steers them out of the generic parking structure. 

He wonders how many times their management has helped coordinate rendezvous for members. How many secrets have been kept — Jaebum’s own included.

He remembers one particularly risqué date with an ex, when his manager tried to relocate them to somewhere with less traffic. She hadn’t gotten off his lap, grinding messily even as their chaperone cursed them out and burnt some tire trying to accelerate too quickly out of the lot.

At the time, it had been thrilling —  _ imagine the headlines,  _ he’d thought smugly, a hand on each ass cheek.

Now, he can’t hold back the twist of discomfort at the idea. And Jinyoung’s own words resurface — how it would be so much worse for him to be caught with a man. 

The stakes for Jinyoung are higher. But Jaebum still can’t help but wonder what he’d look like, spread open on someone’s lap. He swallows down the rush of spit in his mouth, crossing his legs and stubbornly gazing out at the street. 

//

Jinyoung isn’t crying when Jaebum joins him back in his apartment, but there’s a sour air about him. 

Jaebum doesn’t want to press. But as he hands Jinyoung his phone and watches the disappointment further cement with no new messages, he knows. Jinyoung’s been stood up.

“Did you have another allergy attack or something?” Jinyoung asks him, shoving his phone face down across the countertop.

“No,” Jaebum hums, turning back to the stove and then stopping short as he remembers what had given him a shock. Something had broken, but what and how?

He slips into his bathroom, knowing it’s a possibility because of the tile floor. There, beside the foot of his sink, is what remains of a cup for his toothbrush. The ceramic has shattered into a few large pieces. 

Jaebum clicks his tongue in disappointment. One of his cats probably did this. They loved to paw things off countertops. It’s definitely a factor in his aversion towards too much decor.

When he returns to the kitchen, Jinyoung is flipping his phone over yet again, grimacing.

Jaebum waves the piece of broken mug handle at him, before tossing the bits into the trash.

“I guess being startled by a sound will set it off too,” he says, dipping his head in apology. “Maybe it’s actually a heartbeat thing.”

Jinyoung shrugs, moody, and for the first time, Jaebum wonders if he might be embarrassed. It doesn’t feel fair, to be forced into sharing your moments of disappointment, as they happen.

Jaebum turns away, deciding to busy himself with dinner. Jinyoung had dialed down the heat on the stovetop as instructed, but he didn’t serve himself. 

Jaebum gets out a couple stacks of bowls and hums to himself as he moves easily throughout his kitchen. He opens the rice cooker and deeply inhales, basking in the scent of fresh rice. 

Their taste in food still stays the same, regardless of the switch. Eating always makes Jaebum feel like himself, even when he’s not.

“Hungry?” He asks, scooping some out for himself.

Jinyoung hesitates, fingers paused in their tracing of the back of his phone case.

But he slips off his stool and comes over to Jaebum’s side, following him along as they load up on dinner together.

They eat in companionable silence. Jaebum is unsure how to offer any comfort when he isn’t supposed to be privy to this development in Jinyoung’s relationship. So he thinks it’s probably best not to mention it.

But: “Have you ever stood someone up?” Jinyoung asks him, once they’re loading the bowls into his dishwasher.

Jaebum falters for a moment. 

“I’ve been late,” he says, running a tongue over his teeth. Jinyoung's teeth feel so different from his veneers, he fixates on their foreign shape a moment longer before continuing.

“I’ve definitely been hard to get in touch with,” he says. “But I’ve never  _ not  _ said anything. That’s just not fair.”

Jinyoung nods, lips pursed tight. Jaebum thinks the expression looks especially sour on his thin lips, and he presses his together in response. The thickness of Jinyoung's pout distracts him, and he stares off into space for a moment, tongue darting out to trace the width of his upper lip.

When he looks back at Jinyoung, he’s side-eying Jaebum suspiciously.

“Don’t get my lips all swollen,” Jinyoung whines, reaching out to shove at Jaebum’s shoulder. 

Jaebum slams the dishwasher shut, releasing the lower lip he’d subconsciously sucked into a bite. 

“Ah, sorry!” Jaebum yelps, embarrassed to be caught. “I didn’t know you don’t like—!”

“I do like it,” Jinyoung says, suddenly quite close, hand tucked into Jaebum’s elbow. His eyes follow Jaebum’s careful pluck of his lips, the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple in a gulp.

“It’s nice when somebody’s kissing me,” he qualifies.

Jaebum can’t help but stare at Jinyoung’s lips — _his own lip_s, and he’s left wondering. If Jinyoung would want that. Would he let Jaebum kiss him? 

He specifically didn’t let Yoo, which intrigues Jaebum, and he doesn’t know why. Is it the idea that Jinyoung might like him a bit  _ more _ than someone else… exciting?

Jinyoung turns away with a glum little sigh, dragging his feet off to the bedroom, and a second later Jaebum hears his tv turn on.

He nods to himself, letting out a slow breath. Jinyoung is feeling down, not looking for kisses. The best thing Jaebum could do is just be here for him, be gentle with him. 

Jaebum remembers he has some ice cream in the freezer, so he takes the whole pint and a single spoon and moves toward his bedroom.

Then he pauses, cocking his head in consideration. He doubles back and grabs a bottle of booze from atop the fridge. The good stuff.

It’s not long before he’s curled up behind Jinyoung, who’s stubbornly flicking past their typical dramas in favor of loud, chaotic variety shows. 

Jinyoung is eager to drink, but reluctant to eat. Jaebum decides on feeding him spoonfuls of the ice cream anyway, stubborn in his efforts to comfort.

Jinyoung sniffs out a surprised snort at the first bite, but he swallows it anyway.

It’s quiet between them, beneath the repetitive blare of comedy. Jaebum focuses on watching each bite of ice cream slip smoothly between Jinyoung’s plush lips, until they’ve finished off the pint.

Jinyoung’s breathing pattern sounds uneven late into the night, and Jaebum wonders if he might be angry rather than sad. 

He brushes Jinyoung’s hair off of his face when they turn the television off, and he doesn’t find tears. 

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says quietly, and twists in his arms, burying his nose into Jaebum’s shoulder. “Isn’t it humiliating?” He asks. 

Ah — so it is embarrassment. Jaebum is intimately familiar with it. 

“I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with you,” Jaebum whispers into his hair. “He’s probably just busy and a schedule got moved around.”

When they’re close and the lights are low like this, it’s easy to forget they’re in the wrong bodies. It’s easy to forget they have physical limits at all, as if they’re just body heat pulsing under a blanket. It feels alright. 

“But he’s  _ nice,” _ Jinyoung says. “It’s not like him, to do something like this without saying anything.”

“Whatever happened, it’s his own mistake,” Jaebum says. “And you don’t owe him any forgiveness, just because he’s  _ usually _ nice.”

“He must have gotten tired of me,” Jinyoung says, barely loud enough for Jaebum to discern it.

And then as his brain spins, he feels physically dizzy. How could anybody get  _ tired _ of Jinyoung?

Jinyoung, who’s always changing anyhow, long fingers flicking between the pages of another new book, mind sharp and playful, body carved into something terrific, strong and beautiful. Jaebum can’t believe somebody would grasp onto him, just to let him go an instant later. 

But then he remembers himself, years ago, pushing Jinyoung away. 

“He doesn’t know you,” Jaebum says. And Jaebum hadn’t known  _ himself, _ back then. “Not all of you, not the real you, if he thinks I was a convincing version.”

Jinyoung peeks up from his chest, eyes glittering between strands of hair. “And you do?” He asks, quietly. “You know me, hyung?” The soft, sweet scent of his breath feels warm on Jaebum’s neck.

Jaebum hesitates for a moment, and then touches a hand to Jinyoung’s hair, brushing it back off his forehead again. He traces around the two moles he’s so used to seeing in the mirror, contemplative. How does Jinyoung make his own eyes feel so different?

“I want to,” Jaebum finally says, just a whisper. “I want to know your everything. Not just as a joke, not just for an interview, but for real. If you’ll let me.”

Jinyoung is quiet, burrowing back into Jaebum’s side without anything else to say. Jaebum thinks he could get used to this, and there’s a part of him that mourns how quickly things might change again when the spell is resolved.

He supposes that isn’t all bad; again, he thinks of an efficient work partnership, of enjoying facets of Jinyoung a piece at a time. Like a very long, drawn out meal of just hors d'oeuvres. 

But now that he’s had more, now that Jinyoung’s nestled neatly beside him in bed like this, now that they’ve confided in each other so deeply — how could he be satisfied with the way things were? When there’s a  _ feast _ to be had?

Honestly, when Jaebum thinks back to that night as trainees, when he’d sincerely thought about kissing Jinyoung, and all the years spent since, desperately trying to erase that memory, he regrets it.

And maybe it’s too little, too late. How do you stop regret? You can’t.

(At least, Jaebum is pretty sure. He’d also never thought you could switch bodies, but here they are.)

But he can stop creating  _ new _ regrets. He can try to live wholeheartedly — to be bold with what he  _ really _ wants and ignore everything telling him he can’t have it.

With that in mind, Jaebum presses a careful kiss to the top of Jinyoung’s head. From now on, he thinks. It’s time to be honest — with Jinyoung, and with himself. 

//

The second time Jinyoung is stood up, they stay in their own bodies. 

Jaebum guesses it without being told, without any of the previous context, when Jinyoung abruptly arrives at his studio late at night, nose red and demeanor prickly.

He’s dressed to  _ kill —  _ in his own way, of course — in tight leather pants Jaebum hardly ever sees on him outside of a concert, and a softly draping sweater where the neckline slides just a bit off-center. Jaebum follows the bare line of his left clavicle all the way to his shoulder, and by the time his eyes make it back up to Jinyoung’s face, he’s been caught.

But Jinyoung doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even tease him like he should. He looks  _ satisfied, _ smug like a cat having caught a mouse. Pleased pink at a reaction — even if Jaebum wasn’t his intended audience.

And that’s a little difficult to grapple with, Jaebum admits. But he’s not about to kick this beautiful creature out of his studio, even if he’s sulky over someone else.

Jinyoung just needs his company, for now, and Jaebum is happy to provide.

So he lets Jinyoung in and sets him up with a glass of wine on the sofa, and then turns back to his work. Jinyoung offers comments when he asks for feedback, but he mostly stays quiet, legs curled up beside him and wine slowly disappearing, cup after cup.

He gets up for water and brings a bottle back for Jaebum, too. And then he hovers beside his chair for a moment, and his fingers ghost through Jaebum’s hair as they listen to a track that’s almost finished. 

Jaebum isn’t certain if he notices he’s doing it, the touch so soft and subconscious he almost misses it himself. But the delicate scratch of nails along his scalp sends a shiver down his spine, and he leans further back into his chair and lets his eyes slip shut.

When the track fades out, Jinyoung’s fingers disappear from his senses, and Jaebum opens his eyes. He peeks up, trying to catch his expression.

But Jinyoung is looking away, eyes downcast and glassy, blank.

“Let’s head home,” Jaebum says after a moment, saving out his files and grabbing his backpack. Jinyoung doesn’t argue, seemingly content with going everywhere together as their current state of being.

They’re close enough to Jaebum’s apartment to walk back, and he relishes the crisp, autumn air as it envelops them. The peaceful hum of the city fills in gaps where their conversation can’t yet dip, and Jinyoung even smiles as Jaebum points out a funny advertisement with a misspelled pun.

Things are starting to feel good. For the first time, Jaebum feels a bit grateful for this transference spell. 

Later, as Jinyoung stretches out his legs on Jaebum’s bed, Cake hops up beside him and presses her forehead to a thigh, asking for pets. Jinyoung acquiesces, hand curling around her little head for a moment and then tapping his chest. She hops up onto him, curling into a loaf and closing her eyes.

Jaebum lingers longer than necessary by the lightswitch, watching with soft, watery eyes. It feels right, not just to him. Jinyoung fits in his life.

It’s not until they’re in bed together, closer than the last time, that Jinyoung’s mask slips again.

“What do you think will happen, when I’m not young anymore?” Jinyoung whispers, arms up over his head. The hem of Jaebum’s borrowed shirt has slipped up over the lean, bare planes of his abdomen. 

Jaebum doesn’t try to hide his curious gaze, wondering idly how the skin there feels. “What do you mean?” He asks.

He tucks the duvet up higher around Jinyoung now, rolling onto his side, so his arm can fit around his waist and not disturb Cake. He shifts the blankets around them gently, listening to his wavering breath. Jaebum tries to be patient.

“What happens when people stop looking at me, hyung?” Jinyoung asks. “When I’m not new anymore. Or beautiful enough. What happens when I’m not  _ worth it?” _

It pinches at Jaebum’s lungs, to think Jinyoung’s hung so much value on his sugar relationships. 

Jinyoung’s got a whole world of people wanting to look at him besides these men. He's got fansites following him around, sold out fansigns, young men and women hanging on his every word, some of them bringing babies for him to pat.

Yoo Youngjae’s words filter back to him now:  _ “Sometimes, just being wanted feels good.”  _ Every idol understands it.

But for Jinyoung, distant admiration has also sustained him off-stage. Every idol worries about the day they lose their broader appeal. For Jinyoung, it’s not just about the end of a public life, but his personal one as well.

“You’ll find someone,” Jaebum says, and his mouth goes dry trying to say it. “Or someone will… find you. Somebody who really likes you, for who you are. Not just as something new, or as an idol. Not just as someone beautiful.” 

It’s bitter to think about, sour to say, because at this point Jaebum doesn’t want to imagine Jinyoung settling down with someone else.

“Maybe it’s hard to imagine now,” Jaebum continues, with a sigh. “While we’re in the group. But it’s still possible.”

“And when we’re not?”

Jinyoung’s voice is thin — not rounded and smoky like usual. It’s fragile, fractured already, and not much louder than a whisper.

“Not in  _ GOT7?” _ Jaebum asks.

Jinyoung nods.

“You know,” Jaebum starts, and then shakes his head, as if it’ll knock any whimsy out of himself. “You know it’s not as simple as retiring. Especially not  _ now, _ everybody looks people up and everybody still goes on variety and hardly anyone really… really fades away.”

_ “Here,”  _ Jinyoung supplies. “But if we were somewhere else, there’s still — there are still places where less people know us. Or look for us.”

Jaebum stays silent, trying to tamp down his immediate excitement. At the mere idea of them stealing away someplace, together. He wonders what Jinyoung means, when he says  _ us. _ Is us GOT7? Or could us mean… he and Jaebum? 

Jaebum softens, as he takes in more of Jinyoung’s expression. Eyes wavering, teeth bit into his lower lip even though he doesn’t like it to swell. Wistful.

“Is that.... something you would want?” Jaebum asks. Trying to be careful.

And Jinyoung nods just once, eyes wide and earnest, completely bare of any pretense.

Something blossoms in Jaebum’s chest. The warmth of a promise, still unspoken, but solid, and easy to understand if they’re on the same wavelength.

Jaebum presses him closer still, listening to their breath as it lapses into sync, until they sleep.

//

**Jinyoung**

It’s a Thursday afternoon, when Dispatch catches Gong Yoo. He’s not wearing any hat, and he parks on the street in front of a young actress’s building. Some fans half-heartedly argue he was probably just patronizing a nearby restaurant.

But the very next morning, Yoo’s management issues a statement confirming the dating rumors.

Jinyoung doesn’t look upset. He hides it well, of course. Or at least, he hopes he does. 

The actress is just twenty, and lovely, and Yoo hasn’t texted him in over two weeks. 

That relationship could have started ages ago, Jinyoung supposes. It was none of his business before, and it’s especially none of his business now. He shouldn’t have even noticed.

In a group meeting with management, Jaebum watches him quite closely, and Jinyoung tries not to notice that either. It’s nice Jaebum is concerned, to be fair. He’s been overwhelmingly nice to Jinyoung lately, for better or worse. 

But the worse is: once they fix what’s happening with their bodies, Jinyoung is certain Jaebum will revert to their previous relationship roles. Not unkind, just lukewarm. 

Certainly no more being spoonfed in Jaebum’s bed, no more blowjobs that blow their literal minds, and a renewed, rock-solid distinction between separate social lives.

In his body, Jinyoung had seen Jaebum’s lyrics, had dragged reverent fingers across his keyboard, had strolled lazily around in the home and studio he’d spent hardly any time in otherwise. 

And it just drove home the message he’d gotten from this mess — there was so much to Jaebum that Jinyoung should never normally have full access to. The bodyswap had shoehorned him into his hyung’s life for now, but how long would it really last?

After all, Jinyoung had been forced into Jaebum’s life by the company before, and it didn’t end up meaning anything for them personally. 

He should be grateful for the few months they’ve spent, brushing up closer together, and then move on once the spell has run its course.

He keeps thinking, maybe he should talk to Yugyeom about it. If only because he knows exactly what it’s like to deal with Jaebum, one on one. Yugyeom could offer some insight into what Jaebum was really thinking, feeling. 

But it’s probably a little too personal, for the maknae. Jinyoung wouldn’t typically hesitate to tell him about Yoo or other men in his life. Yugyeom isn’t judgmental, and he’s deeply sympathetic. 

But admitting to him that he and Jaebum had helped each other masturbate? It might be a little TMI.

Jinyoung keeps telling himself he ought to just let go — of Yoo, of Jaebum, of his attachments. That’s the only way to avoid getting hurt. But it’s easier said than done, and every pang of bitterness he feels over the tabloid news is an unpleasant reminder.

After the meeting at JYPE, Jinyoung is eager to head home and bury his head in the proverbial sand for a bit. Maybe watch some cheesy American romance, so he can blame his ugliest tears on Ryan Reynolds.

Instead, someone’s leaf-blowing on the sidewalk outside, and a billowing cloud of dust makes him sneeze, rough and raw. His eyes squeeze shut and tear up in defense, and then he blinks them back open in the offices again, across from two senior producers.

“You can’t keep writing this shit,” one of them says, tapping the play button. “I know what you’re going for — but it doesn’t sound like you guys at all.”

Jinyoung shifts in his seat. He hasn’t swapped into Jaebum’s body in front of anybody besides the members before, and this sudden level of expectation is intimidating. 

He isn’t sure how defensive Jaebum typically gets over review of his tracks — he’s easygoing when he recaps it later for interviews, but Jinyoung knows it can be frustrating. 

But it doesn’t mean he gets defensive in front of his critics. Jinyoung knows Jaebum as a consummate professional. Not spineless, but humble and eager to learn.

The producers have moved onto another track now — slow, with deep, sensual basslines that strike a chord in his diaphragm. Suddenly short of breath, Jinyoung looks up at the file on the visualizer.  _ Inside You, _ it’s titled.

Is this about — them?

“Pig slop,” one of the producers lets out a sharp laugh, slapping it off.

“Oh my god,” the other one rubs at his eyes. “This kid — you really don’t get it, do you? GOT7 is not your own thing. The company has given you a sound and you need to respect that. Write  _ for us,  _ not to beg for pussy.”

“Maybe if we set the vocals to a reggaeton track?” The first producer hums, rewinding the recording.

_ Reggaeton would be more respectful?? _ Jinyoung thinks to himself, eyebrows high.

“Are you writing this down?” The second man barks at Jinyoung, nodding toward the little notebook in his lap.

Jinyoung startles out of his thoughts, trying to keep his irritation at bay. How does Jaebum put  _ up _ with these guys? JYP’s criticism can be harsh, but he’s usually succinct, usually just skips tracks he doesn’t vibe with. He can be hard to please, but he doesn’t suggest taking a whole song apart and jamming it back into a shell it’s not intended for.

There are plenty of producers Jinyoung knows work well with the team. But these senior ones tend to work separately or only with Jaebum. Jinyoung’s been jealous in the past — felt it was preferential treatment. 

Now he’s starting to wonder if Jaebum keeps them all separate for good reason. Maybe he’s trying to shield the members from this grueling process.

“I guess we can try it out,” Jinyoung murmurs, flicking a page back to read through Jaebum’s handwriting.

_ This beanie makes him look like an acorn with a sodium problem, _ a line reads. Jinyoung sneaks a peek upward. Sure enough, one of the producer’s heads looks like it could be found on the forest floor.

Jinyoung fails to hold back a twisted smile, writing _ “that’s nuts”  _ in English, with a deep nod.

“This isn’t a damn joke!” The acorn producer shouts, suddenly, hand slamming down on the desk.

Jinyoung flinches back, squeezing the notebook shut in alarm. He stares up in shock and then ducks his head several times with a mumbled apology, stomach twisting. 

It’s one thing to be critical about the music, but is the shouting necessary?

Is it… normal?

“You are such a smug fucking prick,” the second producer says, yanking Jaebum’s USB stick out of the computer and whipping it at Jinyoung.

Jinyoung barely manages to snatch it out of the air before it hits him in the face, and he grimaces down at the carpet. 

He definitely doesn’t want to burn any of Jaebum’s professional bridges. But it doesn’t seem like there’s much good will here, to start. Do they always treat him like this? Does Jaebum have to sit through this week after week?

“You think you’re such hot shit, dropping garbage on Soundcloud all the time,” the round one mutters. “Big deal, anybody can take a dump on there and get hits.”

Jinyoung stares down at the notebook and flash drive, brain frothing up with white hot, indignant rage. Here in his hands are raw, organic expressions of Jaebum’s artistry — his soul poured out into honeyed lyrics and carefully composed tracks. 

And these jerks are calling him a prick?

Jinyoung scrambles to his feet, chin jutted out and ready to spit back at them, but a frantic knock at the door and his body’s head peeking in stops him in his place.

“Ah, hyung,” Jaebum says, in Jinyoung’s gentlest, softest voice. “Sorry to interrupt, sunbaenim,” and he steps in to offer the jerks two short, sloppy bows. “I hate to steal Jaebum hyung from your review, but we just received word his... his grandpa is in the hospital.”

Jaebum nods pointedly at Jinyoung as he pronounces it — and Jinyoung is a little confused. Is Jaebum’s grandfather really sick?? 

But then he recognizes the reference to his own grandfather, long since passed. Their shared secret, of mourning, of a time Jaebum was there for Jinyoung. 

It’s a ruse, to sneak Jinyoung out of this meeting. To support him once again.

“H-harabeoji?” Jinyoung mutters, cramming the notebook and drive into his back pocket, bowing hastily and darting out before the producers can protest.

Jaebum snatches his hand and tugs him along the hallway, and Jinyoung isn’t sure why, but they burst into a run. 

They nearly stumble down the stairwell, feet pattering like rain on a roof. Somewhere along in their escape, Jinyoung feels himself start to smile, start to laugh.

“A bloated acorn!” He blurts out, and then he’s howling with laughter as they burst into the parking lot and dodge between the crowded spots.

Jaebum laughs with him, loud and unstilted even though it’s Jinyoung’s voice, and as their giggles echo and overlap through the garage, the harmony makes it impossible to tell who’s who.

Jinyoung’s cheeks are hurting, nearly numb with the giddy realization of freedom once they clamber into his manager’s van together. 

“Hyung,” he laughs as he gazes across at Jaebum, and Jaebum is just watching him, smiling back.

“Hyung??” says Jinyoung’s manager, looking up from sudoku. “You lose a bet or something, Jaebum-ah?” 

Jinyoung straightens out, self-conscious as Jaebum lets go of his hand surreptitiously. He doesn’t usually feel outright  _ uncomfortable  _ in Jaebum’s skin, but this situation is a little awkward. 

“Watch out,” says Jaebum, curling his words cutely in Jinyoung’s teasing voice. “You’ll be calling me hyung next!”

The manager reaches back and slaps his head playfully with the puzzle book. “Where are we headed, brats?” He grumbles.

“Home,” says Jinyoung, before he can stop himself.

“Alright, but you’ll be second,” the manager says, “I’d rather drop off Jinyoung now before the traffic over there is too bad.”

“Just Jaebummie’s is fine, hyung,” Jaebum says, smirking out the window. “I’m going, too.”

And Jinyoung realizes, he really had meant Jaebum’s apartment. He really had thought of it, brainlessly, as their home.

Jaebum doesn’t mention it, but it lingers in the back of Jinyoung’s mind for the rest of the night.

//

The next day they’ve reverted to their own bodies, and Jinyoung wakes slowly, drowsy and pleased at how Jaebum had nestled them together overnight. He’s cuddlier than Jinyoung, so it’s a nice change to wake up in this position — warm and secured, legs wrapped around Jaebum’s thigh.

Jaebum is still flushing, fumbling, a little shy when he wakes up and heads off for a shower.

It’s a recurring theme that reinforces Jinyoung’s worst fears about hooking up. 

Jaebum doesn’t mind touching him in the dark, in another body, on the down low. But when morning comes, and proper roles are set back into place, he gets skittish. Shy, at least.

Jinyoung sits on the edge of the mattress, very still, for the entirety of Jaebum’s shower.

The sound of running water helps to clear his head, and he thinks tentatively about next steps. Work with Mark on finding the witch who did this. Work on releasing them from the spell. And go back to normal.

That’s the scariest part, of course. The magic is an unknown factor, the witch an enormous question mark. But it’s so out of their hands, it almost leaves Jinyoung feeling optimistic.

But going back to the way things were? 

Going back to the time when he didn’t come over here for Jaebum’s dinner, multiple times a week? Back to when he didn’t know about the moles low on Jaebum’s hipbones, the scent of his body and the weight of his cock? Before Jaebum had told him he wanted to know his everything? 

It’s depressing, Jinyoung thinks.

But he plasters on a meek smile as Jaebum emerges from the bathroom, already handing him a fresh towel for his turn. He just hopes Jaebum doesn’t catch wind of his foul mood, mistake it for something else. He especially doesn’t want to seem too heartbroken over Yoo. Yes, he’s upset, but it’s more about the framework he’d put in place, more about how dissatisfied he is with his own decisions.

Jinyoung had promised himself he wouldn’t catch feelings while he was in a sugar relationship. But he’d failed — he’d fallen in love. 

It just wasn’t with his sugar daddy.

When Jinyoung steps back into the room after a shower, he finds Jaebum similarly perched on the bed, looking just as lost in thought.

Jaebum looks up at him and bites his lip, clearly hesitant. Jinyoung sweeps the towel from around his shoulders up into his hair, ruffling through it and waiting patiently.

“So… did you ever find out what exactly happened with Gong Yoo?” Jaebum asks, finally. 

Jinyoung’s stomach drops. Of course. He stays quiet, trying to figure out how to communicate his disappointment without focusing too much on Yoo. Or more accurately, and more depressingly, on Jaebum.

“I know it’s none of my business,” Jaebum says, and he shifts his weight, looking like he’s picking words very carefully. “But… but I keep thinking about that date.”

Jinyoung’s stomach turns over on itself, now. Suddenly queasy, miserably certain that Jaebum must have enjoyed Yoo’s company so much he might be about to ask Jinyoung for his number. Might be thinking about getting a sugar daddy of his own.

“You’re curious,” Jinyoung murmurs.

“Yeah,” Jaebum nods, slowly. “I keep wondering about… what it would be like.”

Jinyoung sighs and lets the towel sink back around his shoulders, and he holds each end tight. It helps him stay anchored, keeps his miserable jealousy at bay. He can’t blame Jaebum, for enjoying the special treatment. For finding Yoo so charming. 

Fate keeps finding new, incredible ways to treat Jinyoung like garbage, he thinks to himself.

“I keep wondering…” Jaebum repeats, brow settling low and serious. “About what it would be like, to go on a date with you.”

Jinyoung starts to nod along, lips pressed together to hum in sympathy. Instead, his mouth falls open, and he gapes across at Jaebum like a fish.

_ “What?” _ He cries out, and his face flushes hot and red. He’s almost irritated by this twist — is Jaebum just fucking with him, now? Does he think this is funny? “Because you’re...  _ curious  _ curious?” He asks.

“Yeah,” says Jaebum, and his voice is achingly low, rumbling deep in his chest. “Curious.”

Jinyoung still feels like he’s drowning in a million questions — lost far at sea. Is this just about Jaebum trying to figure out his sexuality? He can’t be serious about dating  _ Jinyoung _ in particular, can he? Jinyoung opens his mouth, and then shuts it again, pouting. 

“I can, show you what it’s... like?” He finally suggests, unsure.

Jaebum looks surprised by the suggestion. But isn’t that what he was asking for? Help with his self-exploration? 

“Just… to satisfy my curiosity?” asks Jaebum, eyebrows high.

“Sure,” confirms Jinyoung, sounding more confident than he feels. “Like a… demo.”

Jaebum sputters out a quiet laugh. “What are you, software?” He asks.

Jinyoung drags the towel off his neck and runs a hand slowly down his bare abdomen, pursing his lips and peering down at himself. “Are you calling me soft?” He asks teasingly, looking back up at Jaebum through his lashes.

Jaebum swallows, audibly.

Jinyoung tries not to preen too obviously, biting down on his lip to hold back a wide smile. He’s not sure Jaebum needs to try a  _ date _ to see if he’s gay. He’s pretty easy to fluster already.

“Later today?” Jinyoung suggests, grabbing one of Jaebum’s shirts out of a drawer. He tugs it over his head and waits for an answer, heart catching in his throat. 

Jaebum’s smiling, eyes roving over his clothed chest just as appreciatively. “Tonight,” he says, and it surprises Jinyoung again. He figured they’d get a cup of coffee, or something lowkey. Maybe another museum.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Jaebum promises.

Jinyoung doesn’t realise until he gets home that Jaebum had let him borrow the shirt, with no complaints. It’s probably not a big deal, he thinks — after all, they’d already made plans to see each other again. Still, he buries his nose in his shoulder and smiles at the scent.

//

Jinyoung’s nervous. He’s not sure why. But then again, when was the last time he went on a date with someone he was so sincerely attracted to? He supposes Yoo was easy to be with in that sense — certainly the most handsome arrangement he’d ever had.

But someone he genuinely has feelings for? This is downright foreign.

The flutter of nerves in his stomach burn up into embers when Jaebum appears at his door. He’s dressed neatly, in slim fitted pants and a tightly cinched belt. He looks lean, effortlessly gorgeous, and Jinyoung’s mouth might actually be watering. 

They head down to a sleek car with darkly-tinted windows, and a driver Jinyoung’s never seen. But Jaebum seems familiar, cheerfully chatting about his preferred routes to a murmured location.

They head in through a back door of a robata restaurant Jinyoung hasn’t heard of either, and he’s feeling a little out of his depth. Which of them exactly is giving the demo on dating here?

It doesn’t look particularly high-end, but it does boast a row of private booths in their own little stalls, with doors that shut comfortingly behind them. 

In another circumstance, he might find it cheesy to sit on the same side of the table, but Jinyoung can’t help himself tonight. He slides in along the bench seat and presses their legs close. If this is his one chance to enjoy a date with Jaebum, he’s going to savor it.

Jaebum talks about the menu like he’s been through the entire thing, and Jinyoung peers curiously at him. He suggests Jaebum order for them both, and after the waiter’s dropped off their cocktails and taken the order, he gives him a sideways smile.

“You’ve never brought the members here,” Jinyoung says, drawing out his words teasingly. “Would’ve been awfully nice, all this privacy.”

Jaebum bites back a smile, licking his teeth and resting his chin in a hand. “Okay okay,” he says, cutely. “Do you really want to know the truth? Or are you going to get jealous on me?”

Jinyoung’s eyes go wide and he’s flustered, taken aback for a moment. If this was anyone else on a first date, it would feel a little forward. But in the end, it’s still Jaebum, and they’ve known each other long enough.

Face hot, Jinyoung sips at his drink and forces a shrug. “Whatever,” he says. “Just  _ curious.” _

Jaebum chuckles, stirring the ice in his glass. He finally looks a bit bashful. “I don’t like letting people in on this place,” he admits. “It’s good for dating because it’s not so popular. I’ve brought more than a few exes here.”

Jinyoung thinks, a younger version of himself might have definitely felt miffed by memories already made. To go somewhere less than new. But now, it feels good to have Jaebum confide in him, and treat him on the same level he’s treated women. 

That’s unexpected. Jaebum didn’t flounder over what to do with a man, as if it was completely unnatural. Some of their dynamic will be different, obviously. But they don’t need to reinvent the wheel.

Dinner goes quickly, and so do several rounds of Japanese whisky. Jinyoung feels himself relax, emotionally and physically — leaning further into Jaebum’s space and laughing raucously at an impression of BamBam’s ashen reaction to Mark flicking him with a potential curse.

It’s getting late, but they’re lingering still, even after the check is paid and swept away.

“Gong Yoo did text me,” Jinyoung blurts out, finally.

Jaebum raises his eyebrows, freezing with the glass just touching his lips. He seems to hesitate, visibly, and then he takes a slow, steely sip.

“What did he say?” He asks, gently offsetting the sound of the glass against the table with a stiff, deliberate pinky finger.

Jinyoung flushes a little, whisky already in his system, making him feel  _ all  _ of his nerves, instead of filtering through them carefully. Instead of hiding them behind a coy mask.

“He said, he  _ really _ enjoyed our last date.” Jinyoung doesn’t intend it as a jab at Jaebum, but he seems to take it as one, clucking and turning away with a tired sigh.

“He said, he really felt my  _ energy,” _ Jinyoung continues. “That it felt so  _ good _ that day. As if I had finally opened up to him.” 

“That’s... good?” Jaebum offers, but it sounds joyless, forced.

“It’s not,” Jinyoung says, voice dull. “I’d never be able to give him that energy again — it’s not mine to offer. Mine isn’t like that. Mine isn’t as good.”

Jaebum looks confused. He probably thinks Jinyoung is upset with  _ him, _ somehow jealous of his chemistry with Yoo. In some strange, sick mess.

But it’s simple, to Jinyoung. He feels inadequate. And he’s tired of it, of being second choice — to girls, real relationships, even Jaebum’s imitation of him. Of being kept a secret, but expected to open up. 

“Your energy is beyond  _ good,” _ Jaebum says, voice tinged with frustration. 

“Your energy,” he says, scooting closer to Jinyoung on the bench seat. Jinyoung blinks up at him, glum.

“It’s good the way it is,” Jaebum whispers. “You’re so good, Jinyoungie. So sexy, and so smart.”

Jinyoung feels dizzy, caught between the bitter swirl of a broken relationship and still behind some walls with Jaebum. He blinks rapidly, caught up in sensation as the pulse of alcohol burns bright in his chest.

Jaebum crowds further into Jinyoung’s space, ducking his head to try and catch a glimmer of light in his eyes. Looking for a smile. 

Overwhelmed, Jinyoung turns away. “He said you made him realize I deserved someone my own age,” he continues, and his eyes drift to his phone, face down and dark. “Somebody who can sympathize more closely to where I am in life.” 

“Wait, what?” Jaebum asks, after a moment. 

Jinyoung can feel his gaze on the side of his face, and he swallows down a nervous lump in his throat.

“You,” Jinyoung says, chuckling. “You being at my apartment ruined it. But it was actually me. I ruined my own date. And my own relationship.”

Jaebum doesn’t say anything for a few beats, and when Jinyoung finally turns back toward him, he’s swept away in Jaebum’s closeness again. 

The rich scent of his cologne and whisky mix, and Jinyoung’s breath shudders, tensing up. Jaebum feels so warm, so masculine. Jinyoung has wanted him for so long. 

It’s difficult for him to understand their closeness in this moment. It feels surreal, somehow even stranger than the absolute madness of their body-swapping.

“I guess you did,” says Jaebum. He takes a slow sip of his drink and lets out a sympathetic cluck. “But that’s how it’s supposed to work, right? We mess up our own relationships. Not each other’s.”

Jinyoung bites his lips, licks them wet. 

Jaebum lifts his chin and turns back to him, and then their noses are nearly touching. It’s dark here, in the restaurant and in the private booth especially. The low glow of tealights flicker across the tabletop, and Jinyoung sees them reflected in Jaebum’s eyes, as captivating as starlight.

“So you really are single, now?” Jaebum teases. His crooked grin feels so familiar, it steals Jinyoung’s breath away for a moment.

“I thought that wasn’t any of your business,” Jinyoung manages to say.

And again, it feels like a stupid fluffy fantasy Jinyoung would have had ages ago. Like the first few weeks of meeting Jaebum in auditions, sneaking peeks at him out of the the corner of his eye and daydreaming on long bus rides.

When he’d moved into the dorms and was still able to train with him, it had been thrilling for a moment, and then a little heartbreaking. He couldn’t have both his dream of being an idol and also his dream of being with Jaebum. He had to stamp one out. It was hard to do, until Jaebum made it especially clear for him.

Now, that clarity is gone, senses smeared and mistakes already made. They’ve already changed, together. 

“Does that mean this would count?” Jaebum asks, still smirking. “As a  _ real _ date?”

His sudden confidence sparks something hot and hungry in Jinyoung’s gut. Is Jaebum… pursuing him? Is this more than meaningless flirtation? More than an experiment? 

“It’s a little late for that,” Jinyoung hums, and then slugs back the rest of his drink. He appreciates the flush in his cheeks, the boozy buzz in his fingertips for this. For really flirting with Im Jaebum. “But I suppose I could consider.”

Jaebum smiles back at him, eyes crescent and fond.

“Those guys,” Jinyoung says, something suddenly shifting in his mind as he remembers the day before. “Those producers at the studio... does it get like that often, hyung?”

Jaebum’s smile fades, and he clears his throat, pushing back his hair with a sigh. “It’s not always that bad,” he says. “They don’t like that I put out other music all the time, and work with my friends and stuff. For them, it’s just a job. And since I know what I’m doing, I make it a little harder for them to just coast through it.”

“So you kept them working apart from most of us, on purpose,” Jinyoung says. “There’s a reason they don’t work with Youngjae, or me, or the others, right?”

“Of course,” says Jaebum.

“You do that a lot,” Jinyoung hums, heart feeling like it’s too full, beating too heavy with gratitude for him. “You’ve taken a lot of that kind of discomfort, for us.”

Jaebum pauses, looking thoughtful. “Of course,” he repeats, like they’re playing that old game. “It’s part of being a leader. And of being a hyung.”

Jinyoung gazes across at him in silence, eyes tracing his handsome features — none of them as handsome as his heart.

“I don’t tell you and Jackson to call me hyung to hurt you,” Jaebum continues. “I don’t do it to belittle you. I just want to do what I can, to take care of you.”

Jinyoung swallows down a lump in his throat, smiling shaky. “Oh,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “So you want to take care of  _ Jackson too, _ huh?”

Jaebum snickers, ruffling his hair again. “Not like that,” he says, smiling. “Not like — this.”

Jinyoung doesn’t have to ask what this means. For the first time tonight, he thinks he might know what’s happening.

He wavers only for another moment, before clambering over and straddling Jaebum’s lap. He takes his face into his hands, and stares into his eyes directly. 

“Hyung,” he says, quietly. “How long will we be together?”

Jaebum inhales slowly, curling his fingers into Jinyoung’s hips, digging into the tops of his thighs, where he’s spread open across his lap. Jaebum’s exhale is ragged, as he stares back up at him. 

“Always,” he says, voice hoarse.

And it feels strange — like the liquid pulse that’s been pushing and pulling between them suddenly snaps. Like it’s vaporized, charged into something electric.

And Jinyoung kisses him, the way he wouldn’t kiss Gong Yoo, the way he wouldn’t kiss the other men who’d bought him dinner, and watches, and wooed him. 

Of course, it doesn’t really matter who Jinyoung has or hasn’t kissed before; this kiss is meant for Jaebum, has always been his alone. 

Maybe Jinyoung’s managed to save it, hidden away in his heart since that day in the dorms. Today he can finally give it to him. 

Today he finally gets to taste Jaebum’s lips, to press up against that Cupid’s bow and crooked smile. 

So regardless of what happens, regardless of what this changes. He’s really going to savor it.

It’s intoxicating — Jaebum’s tongue sliding in between his lips, the texture of it against his own almost unreal. His spit still tastes like whisky cocktail, swept up and puckered wet against his upper lip, where Jinyoung sucks hard. 

Jaebum gives as good as he gets, biting into Jinyoung’s bottom lip, letting it fold under his teeth, tugging it until it swells up fat.

It’s just kissing, for now, the quiet smack of their wet, insistent lips dulled by the din of the restaurant. Jinyoung lets himself melt into it, eyes shut and arms wrapping around Jaebum’s shoulders, touch trailing down over his back.

It feels like a dream he’s had — maybe dozens he’s had — pressing his heartbeat up against Jaebum’s and feeling the sinew and strain of his broad shoulders. 

There’s a heady rush of control, as he’s perched up above him. He sucks Jaebum’s tongue into his mouth and moans as it slips back out, spit trailing down his chin, and he feels Jaebum’s legs twitch underneath him.

Jinyoung draws back, just as Jaebum digs his fingers harder into the fat at the back of his thighs. 

He’d been all around this body, had been  _ in _ this body, but he’d yet to be up  _ against it,  _ like this. They had never really reached out over  _ these _ boundaries. 

Their trysts so far had been strange, masturbatory explorations. And while they’d certainly been shared, it wasn’t the same as admitting they wanted each other. The way they usually are, just as Jinyoung and Jaebum.

It wasn’t the same as Jaebum dragging his blunt nails up Jinyoung’s ribcage, around his neck so he gasps into his mouth at the ticklish scrape. It was nothing like Jaebum holding his face in his hands and slipping his thumb into Jinyoung’s mouth, alongside his tongue.

Jinyoung whimpers a bit, turning aside to suckle at it fully, to swallow and whine for more. Jaebum pulls back to watch, cradling his jaw in his palm and breathing heavy.

“Please,” Jaebum whispers, and Jinyoung rocks forward on his knees, closer still, grinding slowly as he gazes sideways at him.

“Jinyoungie,” Jaebum says, “come home with me.”

Jinyoung sits back, thumb dropping from between his swollen, flushed lips as his breath stutters in surprise. “Okay,” he whispers back. “Okay, hyung.”

//

**Jaebum**

By the time Jaebum’s apartment door chimes shut behind them, they can barely keep their hands off each other.

It’s a whirlwind — mouths slotted up against each other, trembling hands yanking at layers of clothing.

Jaebum can tell they’re both desperately hard in an instant, his leg pressing up against Jinyoung’s cock as he nearly bends him backwards over the arm of his couch. Jinyoung struggles to stay upright, as if he’s being buffeted by a force of nature. 

And that’s not far off from how Jaebum feels — like he’s driven by instinct alone, like he needs to devour Jinyoung to stay alive. He’s yanking Jinyoung’s head back by his hair and feasting on his neck, now. Pressing harsh, wet kisses at the dips and grooves in the muscle.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung chokes out, as Jaebum bites down on a tendon, sucking hard and panting against his balmy skin. He wants more than this. They both do.

Jaebum hums in reply, pleased with the mark he’s made there, and Jinyoung cries out a bit as he sweeps across the fresh bite with his tongue, a bruise surely blossoming already.

“Just,” and Jinyoung’s hand is already down his own pants, whining as he touches himself. “If it’s not too strange for you—,” he says, almost apologetic. What are their real boundaries? What is Jaebum willing to give him?

Jaebum shushes him gently, kissing over his eyelids and tugging his hands away. “It’s not strange,” he says, voice low and soft. “I want to touch you. Let hyung touch you, Jinyoungie.”

Jinyoung digs his fingers into Jaebum’s shoulders then, as Jaebum kneels in front of him, pushing his pants down and pressing his face right against the bulge in his pretty little briefs.

He inhales; he can nearly taste the soft clean scent of Jinyoung’s lotions and colognes, mixed with the heavy, earthy musk of his sweat. He closes his mouth down around the bulge there, dragging down around the bottom of his balls, and lets out a little moan.

“Hh—hyung,” Jinyoung pants, trembling underneath him. He tries to take a step back, but his feet are still stuck in his pants and he wobbles precariously.

“Take these off,” Jaebum growls, “and get on your knees.” He backs off and points at the sofa, breath short in hot anticipation.

Jinyoung’s panting as well, and he kicks his jeans away with two vicious, eager jabs of his feet. He scrambles onto the couch, still in his underwear, and then looks back over his shoulder at Jaebum.

“Hyung,” he whispers. “Should I?” And he hooks a thumb in the waistband, slowly stretching it down over one hip. “Do you want me to?”

Jaebum swallows heavily, and before Jinyoung can say anything else, he’s clambered up behind him. He nearly rips the underpants off of him instead, digging them down around his knees and then shucking them off as well.

Jinyoung’s bare, plump bottom is finally presented for him, and Jaebum is left noiseless, breathless for a moment.

Jaebum squeezes each cheek in his hands, watching in satisfaction as his fingers dent thick and deep into the flesh. “God,” he chokes out.

Jinyoung whimpers quietly under his attention, hips pushing back up off the couch. Further into Jaebum’s grip.

Jaebum drags his face down the slope of his asscheek, breath panting against the skin. And then he noses into the fold at his thigh, against the fatty flesh there, lips yawning gently open and shut.

He trails his kisses slow and purposefully, not yet licking outright but just touching, puckering loudly into the soft skin.

Jinyoung whines again, wriggling his hips, and Jaebum takes his first taste, unable to resist. His tongue darts into the crease, not yet Jinyoung’s center but deep between his cheeks. He yanks Jinyoung’s knees apart, opening him farther, and then it’s easy to lick a long stripe up from his balls to his entrance.

Jinyoung bites back a squeal, choking deep in his throat. Jaebum knows it must be ticklish, knows it’ll take time to adjust to the soft, wet sensation in such a sensitive spot. So he flutters his tongue slowly, gently just along the back of his thigh for a moment, using his thumbs to tug his cheeks just a bit farther apart. 

He’s licking more now, spit building up so it’s wet, warm and slick against his skin where it curves up inside him. Jinyoung murmurs again, deep and primal, smoky in his throat, and it makes Jaebum hum and press deeper forward. It’s tight, hard to breathe as he presses his face into his bottom, but Jaebum licks out and finally flicks against the bud of his asshole, and that’s when Jinyoung really whines.

Jaebum thrusts his tongue deep inside, hot and hungry for more of a reaction. It takes only a flick in one direction for Jinyoung’s voice to crack, and then his hips are already trembling, thighs twitching as he whines for more. 

That’s when it happens again — Jinyoung whines and Jaebum feels it in himself, feels a flutter of a tongue ghosting against his insides. They’re still linked, magically. And when they feel each other like this, they feel each other.

Wet, hot, scrambling. Jaebum growls into him, tongue spearing deeper as his mouth slobbers wide open against him. He wants to make them both see stars, wants to hear more of Jinyoung’s noises, wants to feel him shudder around his tongue. He grabs hold of Jinyoung by his ribs, holds him tight with his ass against his face.

Jinyoung is loud, moaning with each lick. Each curl of Jaebum’s tongue elicits a new, frantic twitch of his body. Knees scrambling, he struggles to stay upright, head bowed and cheek slipping hard against textured fabric of the couch. Jaebum feels it against his own skin, the scrape at his knees and the swell of his cock.

Amidst the flex and the flail of Jaebum’s tongue, just beyond the squelch of spit and the slide of trading sensations, there’s a banging on the door.

Jaebum’s head pops up, bewildered. He leans back, mind racing with who could be visiting at this late hour. 

Jinyoung growls, back still heaving with each breath as he props himself up on an elbow and glares back over his shoulder. “Don’t stop,” he gasps out, “you don’t have to answer it.”

Jaebum presses his bottom down gently, shaking his head. “W-wait,” Jaebum says, “I think it might be—!”

And there’s another loud set of knocks, and then the cheerful beeping melody of someone entering the passcode.

Jinyoung makes another new noise, rolling off of the couch in alarm. He scrambles about for his pants and underwear, strewn across the floor. “I keep forgetting to ask, why the  _ fuck _ do you give people your door code?” He mutters, and waddles into Jaebum’s bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

And yeah, that’s fair. Maybe Jaebum’s locks are due for an update.

Jaebum tries to settle himself as normally as he can in the circumstances, tugging a pillow into his lap and running a hand through his hair. He’s just in time, as Mark, Youngjae and Yugyeom step through from the foyer.

Youngjae squints at him in question for a moment, but he settles right next to him on the couch, and Jaebum immediately feels guilty about what’s just been occurring there.

Yugyeom looks equally curious, but he curls up on the floor without saying anything.

“Jaebum-ah,” says Mark, tossing his bag into a corner and turning back. “You are not gonna  _ believe _ the mess we’re in.”

Jaebum blinks up at him, thinking just about anything is going to be more believable than being interrupted mid-rimjob, but keeps his mouth shut.

“Uhh,” Mark says, tossing Jaebum a box of tissues from the end table. “Have you been eating fried chicken or something? Wipe your mouth, dude.”

Jaebum gasps into the tissue as he drags it across his spit-slick mouth and jaw, trying not to scream in utter despair. He stares dully at the carpet, wondering if there’s a way he can force his soul to leave his body, on purpose this time. 

“I remembered something about tracking the source of a spell,” Mark says. He’s already plopped down on the other side of the couch, cracking open the big old book from before.

Jaebum glances back at his bedroom, face clean but still feeling flushed. Jinyoung might be tricky to handle right now, he considers. But this concerns him, too. 

“I should grab, um,” and Jaebum stutters, waving the tissue box at the bedroom. “Jinyoungie.”

Youngjae frowns at him, tilting his head. “He’s here, hyung?”

“Oh good, Jinyoung’s here?” Mark asks. “Or, are you—?” And he squints, leaning in a little closer. “Are you switched right now?”

Jaebum clears his throat as he shakes his head and jerks backwards, bumping into Youngjae. He feels penned in, certain they can all somehow sense what’s been going on. As if they might detect Jinyoung’s taste on his breath. 

“Ah, have you told Youngjae, already?” He asks.

“No,” says Mark, flipping through pages in a whirlwind. “He was just hanging out at Yugyeom’s, when I went to pick that bastard up.”

Youngjae peers over at the spellbook with wide, concerned eyes. “What’s going on?” he asks. “And what’s the big deal with Yugyeom?”

Jaebum peers down at the maknae now, whose lips are pursed curiously tight. 

“Yugyeom has something to do with this?” Jaebum asks.

“Jinyoungie!” Mark calls, and then wrinkles his nose at Jaebum. “Go  _ get _ him already.”

“Ah,” Jaebum mutters, frustrated. Not only are they interrupting, but there’s no valid reason for him to get out of it. He and Jinyoung  _ do _ need Mark’s help, more than they need sexual release. 

But god, their timing could not have been worse.

Jaebum knocks gently and then lets himself into his bedroom. 

Jinyoung’s dressed, mostly presentable as he gazes into his reflection in Jaebum’s mirrored closet doors. His lips are swollen, face still a little red from where it had rubbed raw against the couch. But his pants are safely back on his hips.

“Hey,” says Jaebum, stepping up behind him. Their eyes meet in the mirror. It’s a little easier this way, even as themselves. 

“Hyung,” says Jinyoung. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaebum asks with a frown, hand stretching out to grasp at the back of his neck. He strokes his thumb behind Jinyoung’s ear — he knows now how sensitive this spot is, from firsthand experience. 

Jinyoung shivers under his touch, arms crossing around himself and eyes downcast. “That was all just, really…  _ gay,” _ he says frankly.

Jaebum nearly chokes on his spit, hand dropping away as he’s caught between a laugh and a gasp. “Jinyoung-ah,” he says. “I wasn’t exactly  _ thinking _ about it like that.”

“No?” Jinyoung asks, eyes darting back up to catch his gaze in the mirror again. “Because you probably should. If you’re going to regret it, later. Then we should stop.”

A beat passes, Jaebum reminding himself to breathe.

“I’m not going to regret this,” Jaebum says. “And I don’t feel the need to categorize it, right now. I just wanted to make you feel good.”

Jinyoung turns around, finally finding his eyes face-to-face. His expression has softened, hands falling away.

“Did it feel good, Jinyoungie?” Jaebum asks, crowding in closer towards him, hand wrapping back around the nape of his neck. 

Jinyoung murmurs something, barely above a breath.

“Did it feel good?” Jaebum repeats, voice lower, huskier. “Just wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you come,” he says, nose sliding along side Jinyoung’s, breath hot in his chin.

“Please,” whispers Jinyoung. “Felt so good, hyung.”

Jaebum’s mouth settles over his, tongue sliding along the seam of his lips just as Mark calls from the living room again.

Jinyoung is whining again, as Jaebum pulls away with a smack. 

“I know,” says Jaebum, drawing back. “But Mark said something about tracking the spell.”

Jinyoung reluctantly tags along behind him then, fingers nervously rolling and unrolling the cuffs on his shirt.

Jaebum tries not to watch over Jinyoung too obviously, as he greets the others and curls up close to Yugyeom on the floor.

Yugyeom grins at him, eyes twinkling, as Jinyoung pets a hand through his hair.

Something nervous flickers in his gut, and Mark’s talk of magic signatures and blaming Yugyeom sends him into a momentary, inexplicable panic. Selfishly, he wants to yank Jinyoung up and keep him beside himself. 

But he knows an overreaction when he feels one, so he stiffly settles back between Mark and Youngjae on the couch. He grips his knees and lets out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” Mark hums, letters dancing on the page in front of him again.

“We can’t track exactly who cast this, but we can pick up magical signatures,” Mark says. “Kind of like... greasy fingerprints, or a lingering scent.” He snaps his fingers, and a slim, metallic wand whips out of his bag and into his grip. 

He points it right at Jaebum’s face, mouthing words silently as he keeps his eyes on the page.

Jaebum gulps.

When Mark first said  _ signature, _ Jaebum had imagined something like a signet stamp — Hangul or cursive or something indicating a name. What he doesn’t expect is  _ color _ , a hazy little prismatic cloud that wobbles in the air in front of him, twisting in shades of baby blue, mustard yellow, and fuschia.

It phases out before Jaebum can focus his crossed eyes on it, and then he finally lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

_ “Yugyeom,”  _ Mark gestures the wand at him next, voice stern. In complete contradiction to his tone, a lovely, sparkling little rainbow arches it’s way over Yugyeom’s head. Three bands, brilliant and glowing — baby blue, mustard yellow, and fuschia.

The colors are a match.

The maknae blinks back up at them innocently. “Ah,” he chuckles. “I didn’t know you could expose auras like that, hyung!”

Youngjae makes a strangled noise beside Jaebum.  _ “What—?”  _ He sputters. “What is going on!!”

“Kim Yugyeom, why have you been  _ hiding _ from me?” Mark is bursting with emotion. “Your magic potential has always good but this aura is — ridiculously bright?”

Yugyeom looks like he’s preening a bit, leaning back with a bashful, blushing smile. “Aw,” he chirps. “Well I knew you were a witch so I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me—!”

“A  _ witch!?”  _ Youngjae shouts, nearly toppling off the couch.

“Jinyoung and I have been… cursed,” Jaebum explains aside, waving his hand. He knows it’s a lot to take in quickly. It’s still a lot to take in, even after having lived through it for a while. But he’s impatient for answers, now.

“My body is not a curse,” Jinyoung says, nose upturned.

Jaebum lets out a tired sniff of laughter.

“What??” Youngjae is still lost.

“They’ve been  _ switching bodies,” _ Mark explains, impatient. “And Yugyeom—! Why didn’t you tell me, if you knew about me? How can you have gone unregistered for so long?”

“Yugyeom really did this?” Jinyoung asks, turning to him with a frown.

“Mark hyung,” Yugyeom still doesn’t look ashamed. “Fae aren’t always looked on very kindly, by your type.”

“We’re practically brothers,” Mark starts, defensively. But then he seems to let the words fully sink in. “Fae,” he repeats. “You’re  _ fae??” _

“Just a quarter,” Yugyeom says, eyes downcast. His long lashes flutter as he peeks aside, looking for Jinyoung’s reaction.

Jinyoung looks dumbstruck, waiting to hear more. Jaebum follows his lead and stays silent, unsure what any of this means, let alone for them.

“Like, a  _ faerie?” _ Youngjae asks. 

“Yes,” Mark says, stiffly. “Faeries have a lot of natural magic — and they practice in much less traditional manners than witches. It’s part of why fae are considered… mischievous.”

“Some witches treat us like... vermin,” Yugyeom murmurs.

“My covens have never taught that attitude,” Mark says, frowning still. But it’s less angry, more regretful. “You know exactly how lonely it can be, hiding magic. I wish you’d told me.”

“Excuse me,” Youngjae interrupts. “But  _ why _ did you curse Jinyoung and Jaebum hyung??”

Jaebum’s brain is nearly wheezing, and he’s stuck staring at Yugyeom — a boy he’s known since he was just a tender, gangly preteen. To know that he’s — possibly a whole different  _ species?  _ It’s breathtakingly bizarre. 

“It’s not a  _ curse,” _ Yugyeom whines, looking like he’d stamp his foot if he was standing. He turns to Jinyoung now, putting a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry if it’s been a pain, hyung, but I didn’t mean for it to work like this anyways. It was just supposed to be a balancing blessing. For the whole group!”

“Balancing—?” Mark murmurs, flicking through the spellbook. “But why is there transferrence? It wasn’t the point?”

“I think… I guess I shouldn’t have used spit,” Yugyeom says.

“Eww,” Youngjae whispers.

“Spit!” Mark shrieks. “You’re supposed to use a  _ neutral medium, _ Gyeom!”

“Noo,” Yugyeom says, waving a hand. “I mean, I used a spoon from when I had dinner with Jinyoung hyung, and chopsticks from when we shared dumplings with Jaebum hyung. Then I’d gotten one of your socks, and pens from Jackson and Youngjae? But I guess they didn’t have as much impact as the utensils.”

Jaebum’s stomach lurches, realizing of all seven of them could’ve been switching back and forth. 

“Lesson learned?” Yugyeom grits out an awkward smile.

Jinyoung smacks the back of his head just as Mark whips a pillow at him angrily.

“You shouldn’t be messing with the members at all!” Jinyoung growls.

“Biomaterial in magic is super dangerous!” Mark adds. “Just imagine if you’d picked up some of Coco’s hair from Youngjae’s ingredient??”

Yugyeom looks a bit queasy. “Yeah,” he says through his teeth. “That could’ve been interesting.”

“Oh my god,” Youngjae sputters, gripping at Jaebum’s arm tightly. “You’re not just a faerie, you’re an  _ idiot  _ faerie??”

“Yah...” Yugyeom says, looking up from under his brows, annoyed. 

Youngjae hides himself behind Jaebum’s shoulder, giggling nervously. Yugyeom’s charming, heavy-lidded gaze suddenly feels a bit threatening.

“What was the point?” Jaebum finally asks, voice steely. “Why’d you do it?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he stares him down. 

Yugyeom had said it wasn’t a curse. Jaebum had to believe him. He trusts Yugyeom, regardless. Whether he’s a witch, or a faerie, or just another little trainee. But if it’s not a curse, what is it?

“What is a balancing spell  _ supposed _ to do?” Jinyoung asks.

“It’s a  _ blessing,” _ Yugyeom says, finally meeting Jaebum’s eyes. He looks sincerely apologetic, disappointed. “For us to understand each other, and to work in harmony. I thought it would help with the comeback. I’m sorry! Really, it’s not supposed to be so complicated. I’ve never tried to do anything to us before, and I won’t try it again!”

“How do you reverse it?” Jaebum asks. He wouldn’t exactly call what has been happening to him and Jinyoung harmonious. But he supposes they’ve certainly seen more of each other’s perspectives. Just a little too literally.

“I don’t… exactly know,” Yugyeom says, voice wavering.

Jaebum’s stomach plummets, and he watches Jinyoung draw away from Yugyeom’s side, face pale and seasick.

Youngjae bursts into awkward, nervous laughter. “Oh my  _ god!!” _ He howls. “Are you somehow just the  _ worst _ faerie?”

“No,” says Yugyeom, petulant. “Listen, some faeries have gotten people killed—!”

_ “This _ faerie is about to get  _ himself _ killed!” Mark snaps. “You’re like a ticking time bomb without any training. You know you can learn to harness your powers safely, if you really want to bless people. But of  _ course _ we can fix things. The swapping is still tied to their conflict, right? They’re out of harmony, so we have to resolve it.”

Yugyeom frowns in concentration, pursing his lips. “I guess that’s right,” he says. “I think if the magic is physical already, it would take something pretty tangible to release it. Maybe a handshake, or something??”

The others fix him with a deadpan glare, and he shrugs, with a lopsided smile. “Or  _ something,” _ he emphasizes.

“Has anything sparked so far?” Mark asks, turning to Jaebum. “Have you ever been able to induce it?”

Jaebum’s mouth runs dry, and slowly, he raises his gaze to find Jinyoung’s. But Jinyoung is pointedly staring down at his own hands, face flushed.

“Uh,” says Jaebum. He clears his throat, mind racing, overflowing with images of Jinyoung’s body writhing under his own, the taste of his tongue, the way they’d come together and come undone. “I might have — we might have a few ideas.”

//

  
  



	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm slowing down obviously, but we're nearly wrapping up anyways, so there won't be too much more WIP misery left. I know I'm a little behind on comments as well, so I hope to get to those this week/end too. Ah, I'm a little sad to say goodbye to this universe, since there's lots left to be explored, but I wanted this story to stay lively and succinct and I hope it has. Looking forward to your thoughts, enjoy!

**Jaebum**

“I might have — we might have a few ideas.”

Jinyoung doesn’t look up, and Jaebum wonders; what and when are they going to tell the members about them? How long could they keep it a secret, even if they were trying?

They’d spoken about stakes, and how it was more difficult for Jinyoung in general. But GOT7 was their family. Could they share this part of themselves, too?

Jaebum peeks back at Mark, and he’s certain he must look a little guilty.

“Oh my god, nevermind??” Mark says quickly, just as Yugyeom perks up.

“What do you mean?” He asks, cheerfully.

“There’s been, uh — some sliding,” Jaebum offers, keeping it vague. 

But this all means… they really have to have sex, right? Intercourse is their only hope of getting back to normal? 

He’s read enough science fiction in his lifetime —  _ fuck or die, _ he thinks to himself. But they're not in that sort of danger, are they?

“We can keep trying different things,” Jinyoung says, careful with his word selection. “We’ve noticed the way we switch has gotten less predictable — not just sleep but even sneezes, jump-scares. And the sliding, the switch is sometimes more of a fade, back and forth.”

Yugyeom looks thoughtful, frowning down the floor. “A fade...” he murmurs.

“Is there a time limit?” Jaebum asks. “If we’re switching more, and sharing more — can something happen if we don’t resolve this?”

“You mean: could your minds completely merge?” Mark asks. “Gyeom, have you ever heard of that happening?”

_ Fuck or merge!  _ Jaebum thinks to himself. At least that’s a twist on the trope?

Yugyeom looks utterly bewildered as he glances back and forth between them. “No,” he says. “Not that I… know of?”

Youngjae lets out a quiet snort, and Jaebum shoots him a quick glare. 

“Sorry!” Youngjae says, hands in the air. “He just doesn’t inspire much confidence, does he?”

“Well honestly, my spell  _ shouldn’t _ be that powerful,” Yugyeom says. “The incantation didn’t  _ intend _ for it to be binding, so it’s unlikely it would turn permanent. Magic usually abides by the force applied, and all that...” But he hesitates, glancing up at Mark as if in question.

Mark is touching his lips, frown settled deep into his features. “Unless maybe there’s... something else we’re missing?” He wonders.

Yugyeom meets Jaebum’s gaze then, and he holds it for a moment, brows wrinkling up in question. “Hyung,” he starts, softly. But then it seems like he thinks better of it, peeking aside at Jinyoung and shaking his head.

“Have you tried… performing as each other?” Youngjae asks. “Part switching is funny when we can mess up, but it’s not gonna be cute next month when we’re on  _ Inkigayo _ and you’re suddenly in the wrong body.” 

Jaebum bites his lip. They’d made it through exactly two dance practices as each other.

“It wasn’t too bad,” Jinyoung says. “We were switched on Friday and you didn’t even realize. But I don’t know… muscle memory can only take us so far, and I’d rather not leave it to fate.”

The album is nearly finished, just awaiting final approval from the company, and in a few short weeks the group will be in full promotion mode. Youngjae’s right — anything can happen on stage, and if they switched mid-routine it could spell disaster. It might even be unsafe for the others, if they get too disoriented.

“I think we’re close,” Jaebum says. “Bear with us. Just a little longer.”

Jinyoung finally meets his eyes then, just as he goes searching for them again.

“Trust me,” Jaebum says, and he hopes Jinyoung understands he’s talking directly to him. Not just the group.

//

The thing is — Jaebum wants Jinyoung. 

And his first instinct, like wanting always has been for him, is to spread him open and pound into him, to fill him up until he’s trembling when he tries to walk. He thinks about pumping Jinyoung  _ full of himself, _ thinks of Jinyoung dripping with his cum, and Jaebum nearly wants to howl in anticipation. 

But Jaebum’s left questioning his usual approach.

His usual methods had left Jinyoung ignored for a decade — he’s looked right past thick lips that like to play with a popsicle, right past tight thighs and a perky ass even as Jinyoung’s shook it on stage.

And even once he’d noticed, once he’d decided to try and date him, he’d immediately settled in to treating Jinyoung the same way he’s treated all his girlfriends. 

Wine him, dine him — eat him out for dessert. 

But his exes were exes for a reason. Things had certainly burned bright and hot. But they’d burned out, as quickly as a season turning and leaves changing.

Jinyoung meant more to him than that, and he wanted to make sure he knew it. Jinyoung, who’s been by his side since he’d first stumbled through their audition, and has done nothing but try to please him ever since — he deserves more.

Jaebum forces himself to think  _ differently. _ What’s at the root of this magic? If he needs to change his perspective, maybe he needs to put himself in Jinyoung’s position.

Literally.

//

But: “I think it’s time you fuck me, hyung,” Jinyoung says, a few days later. He’s burst into Jaebum’s studio, unannounced, and he says it without a stutter or a blush. Like it’s as simple as summer turning to fall, as natural as a rise in the tide. 

Jaebum chokes on his sip of water, and pauses his playlist. 

“Won’t that break the spell?” Jinyoung continues, tossing his bag aside. “We’ve done practically everything else physical. Unless Yugyeom requires human sacrifice or something, and I wouldn’t put it past him at this point.”

At least they’re in Jaebum’s studio, not at the company. This kind of discussion is too frank for anywhere without a lock on the door. Jaebum gets to his feet and tests it now, waiting for the reassurance of the chime and even wriggling the handle, before he turns back around.

“Jinyoungie,” Jaebum grumbles. He rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly nervous about broaching the subject. “I’m not — I’m not sure if we should.”

Jinyoung’s face is pinched, cloudy with emotion when Jaebum looks back up, and he realizes he’s misspoken.

“No,” Jaebum says, flustered. “Not, not that we shouldn’t have sex. I want to! Of course I want to. But I just don’t know if I know how to do it…  _ well enough?” _

“Shut up,” Jinyoung looks annoyed, crossing his arms. “You’ve been doing it since high school, you used to  _ brag _ about it. Every third song you write is about sex. We all know you know how to fuck somebody.”

Jaebum rolls his eyes and lets his hand drop. “Of course I know how to fuck girls,” he grits out. “But you’re  _ not _ a girl. Things are different, and I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make sure I understand what it is you’re feeling, and how to really make you feel good.”

“I don’t get it,” Jinyoung says. “We had a  _ whole conversation _ about how Wonpil and I would still need a top, and now you’re telling me you can’t do it?”

“I want  _ you _ to fuck  _ me,” _ Jaebum says, stubbornly.

There’s a long stretch of silence, as Jinyoung’s eyes boggle and blaze.

“You  _ what??” _ Jinyoung asks, incredulous. “Excuse me? Didn’t you just say this was about making me feel good?”

“That’s why I need to _ learn—!” _ Jaebum insists.

“Can’t you just watch a porno or something, like a normal person?” Jinyoung hisses. 

“I’m not... unaware of the logistics,” Jaebum says, and rubs his hand against the back of his neck as it prickles in agitation. Of course he’s  _ watched porn, _ but that’s hardly a realistic foundation for good sex. 

He’d anticipated Jinyoung’s reluctance, his preferences clear. But he hadn’t anticipated him being so  _ pushy _ about it.

“I want this to be about  _ more _ than that,” Jaebum says. “I want this to be about  _ understanding _ you. And if changing our perspective is what this whole swap was originally about, it’s what  _ we need.” _

Jinyoung stares at him, eyes blank and unimpressed.

“And,” Jaebum stammers. “Then — I promise I’ll fuck you after that. I’ll fuck your brains out, Jinyoung. Until you can’t walk. I want that too.”

Jinyoung looks a little placated by this filthy vow, and he can’t hold back a pleased smile.

“I want to give you all of my attention,” Jaebum adds, reaching out and curling a hand down the angle of his jaw. “But I want to learn. I want you to teach me. What do you like? How do you  _ need _ it??”

It’s then Jinyoung’s gaze shifts, darkening into something molten, hungry. He reaches up slowly, fingers curling around Jaebum’s wrist, holding his hand in place. 

“Then I’m in charge?” He asks.

The air in the room suddenly feels charged, pressurized like there’s a storm on the horizon.

Jaebum hesitates, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. Reluctant to let go completely, unsure how this change in dynamic will shift things between them.

He can feel his own jaw clenching, his own fingers curling into a tense fist. It’s unfortunately familiar around Jinyoung — he’s been pushing him away for years, smiling too tight and forcing handshakes in the way of hugs.

But Jaebum reminds himself of the group dynamic, of everything he’s learned about pushing his own boundaries. GOT7 started working best, when Jaebum had let them in. 

And sure, he and Jinyoung  _ work _ already. But maybe there’s more to learn, more to experience, if Jaebum lets go of just a little bit more. Maybe there’s still more  _ best _ to discover.

Jinyoung’s drawn himself up already, flexed tight as he holds Jaebum’s arm still. Jaebum’s reminded of the quiet intensity he gets when he’s doing pushups, the strain in his biceps and the glow of sweat around his brow. Would he be… anything like that?

“I’m all yours,” Jaebum says.

Jinyoung scruffs him by the neck, pressing up just barely on his toes, so he can lean down into the kiss. It’s a familiar motion now, all the way from  _ Kiss the Radio’s  _ crumbly mess, to the shared burn of whisky on their first date. 

Jaebum supposes he’s always been a bit pushy, after all.

Jinyoung opens his lips with his own, tongue dipping inside to taste him. Jaebum melts into it, arms slipping around Jinyoung’s lean waist so he can press them closer, so he can better feel the breadth of his body against his own.

“Here?” Jinyoung whispers, between kisses.  _ “Now??” _

Jaebum draws back, swallowing down another bloom of nerves. He honestly hadn’t expected it to happen right away. But his futon folds out, and he keeps lube here, just in case. He’d even been thorough with himself in the shower the past few days, playing with himself as he’d thought about how Jinyoung had touched him before, in his body.

Maybe it really is about time they break this spell. 

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, a smile stretching across his lips. “Why, do you have somewhere to be?”

He barely gets the last teasing word out before Jinyoung’s pressing back into him, kissing him quiet and shoving him down onto the sofa and clambering after him. 

Jaebum grunts, already feeling himself swell under the warm weight of Jinyoung in his lap. “There’s some—!”

Jaebum’s gesturing toward the drawers in the corner of the room, but Jinyoung doesn’t let him string words together. He’s holding his face in his hands, kissing him repeatedly, wet and loud, biting his lips like he’s trying to draw something out of him.

Jaebum thinks of how Jinyoung’s already had his body in some way, already felt his soul shiver alongside his, and he wonders what’s left. He’d give it all up for Jinyoung, he thinks, somewhere between the slide of their tongues and the friction in his lap. 

Jinyoung’s cock is hard, pressing low against Jaebum’s stomach now, and it’s dizzying to think he’d been afraid of something like this for so long. Why would it be wrong to want to make someone feel good? 

“Is this just to get out of the spell?” Jinyoung asks, pausing. He strides over to the chest of drawers and yanks them open, one by one until he finds the lubricant in the third. “Or are you going to want this more often?”

Jaebum frowns. He gets up to tug the couch away from the wall, folding and unfolding it until it snaps flat. He doesn’t know how to answer. He’s not theoretically opposed to this happening more than once, but Jinyoung had seemed less interested. 

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly, eyes glazing over. “What about you?”

The lube sails past Jaebum’s face then, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

And then Jinyoung’s wresting him back onto the mattress, straddling his hips and trailing a slow, tickling hand up his shirt. Jaebum’s temperature spikes, heat trailing behind each brush of his skin. 

Jinyoung smirks down at him. “Let’s see how the demo goes,” he says, voice thick and low. “I’m curious.”

Jaebum lets him peel his shirt off, and then Jinyoung’s ducking his head to press his mouth against his collarbone, teeth grazing up over the slope of his shoulder. He’s not shy about marking him, about closing his lips down on wet skin and sucking hard, flicking his tongue until Jaebum writhes away, gasping. 

Jinyoung takes his time here, trailing his tongue up and down his shoulders, his biceps and even burying his face into the crook of his armpit for a moment. He seems intoxicated with Jaebum’s taste, with his scent, like he’s trying to map out the way it shifts across his body.

Jaebum whines when Jinyoung gets back up to the base of his throat, suckling hard around the jut of his Adam’s apple. He feels Jinyoung chuckle as he gulps, breath hot around the bob of his larynx.

“Hyung,” he slurs into his skin, and Jaebum feels dizzy with want. 

Jinyoung’s going to absolutely take him apart.

Jinyoung’s lips crest down his chest now, licking soft at a nipple. He toys with the other with his hand, rolling the bud gently between the pads of his fingertips in a quiet echo of his mouth. Jaebum whines again, a sensitive chord struck deep inside him. 

But before he can focus too clearly on any one sensation, Jinyoung moves on, hungry and attentive.

His mouth still lags behind his hands, painting a slick little trail down Jaebum’s body. He hums ticklish melodies past his ribcage, inhales and exhales hot along the dark, narrow path of hair on his belly.

“Smell so good,” Jinyoung murmurs, scraping his nails ever so lightly over Jaebum’s hipbones and under his waistband. “Always smelled so good.”

Jaebum can feel his balls tighten up as heat flares down his spine, cock twitching under Jinyoung’s chin. Jinyoung ducks his head down and buries his face into Jaebum’s lap, mouthing at his erection through the soft polyester.

Jaebum groans at the feeling, at the pressure finally just where he wants it, but Jinyoung doesn’t linger long.

He slips Jaebum’s shorts and underwear down next, yanking the elastic off slim hips with a snap, tossing them aside.

Jaebum’s cock flicks out as it’s freed, flushed and twitching already. He can’t help but rock his hips up, can’t help but think about plunging it into Jinyoung’s lovely wet mouth, when it hovers so close.

But Jinyoung just smirks up at him, gripping him by the head so he can slide his thumb over the slit. He smiles wider as Jaebum dribbles a little precum, as he trembles in his grip and gasps out loud. 

“You’re so eager,” Jinyoung murmurs. “But I’m not going to touch you here yet.” And he lets him go, Jaebum choking back a disappointed moan as his dick thumps back up against his belly. Even that quick press of skin had felt like fire, the swirl of Jinyoung’s thumb already dragging him closer to bliss.

Jaebum isn’t sure how he’ll survive this — Jinyoung’s too much of a tease when he wants to be. And Jaebum’s begged him to fuck him. 

But Jinyoung slips out of his own clothing with less fanfare, eyes gleaming and fingers fumbling with his zipper in the first glimpse of his own impatience. Jaebum’s reminded of his matching inexperience, and he thinks he might make it. Might live to fuck Jinyoung too.

Jinyoung gently situates a pillow under the small of his back now, angling him neatly into a more promising position. This could be thoughtful, Jaebum thinks. Considerate.

But Jinyoung yanks him over towards himself then, an iron grip around his ankles as he drags Jaebum across the mattress. He shoves Jaebum’s legs up and apart and it’s not quite gentle as he folds over him with dark, intent eyes.

Jaebum shudders, legs trembling where they press back into his chest, feeling overexposed. Jinyoung instructs him to hold them back, and then his fingers trace down the back of his thigh, down over the curve of his bottom. 

Jinyoung’s not being too delicate, but the soft touch of his fingers makes Jaebum feel especially ticklish. He’s honestly unsure if it should feel so good, just a caress against his bare skin. He nearly purrs at each pass beside his balls, the soft sweep down to his center.

Jaebum keeps a hand behind each knee, and whines and struggles with them a bit as Jinyoung continues to stroke up and down along his inner thighs. Jinyoung shushes him, fingertips dipping between his legs and pressing up firmly along his taint, ghosting back up like a sigh. Then he moves back down and slides soft circles around his asshole, gazing at the way each part of him quivers, stretches and twitches. 

Jinyoung drips lube down onto Jaebum now, stroking it up and down, massaging it in just around his rim. “Feels good?” He asks Jaebum, voice hoarse, and Jaebum barely squeaks out a noise that passes for approval.

He thinks that’s when Jinyoung will do it — will really dip into him. But instead, he keeps toying with him, thumbing the lube around until it’s warm, until the pressure makes Jaebum gasp in confusion. Why does he want it so bad, when Jinyoung’s just petting him softly? Why does he need it?

Jinyoung slides one long finger into him finally, all at once. The lube eases the burn a bit, slippery and warm as it squeezes out around his knuckles. 

Jaebum gasps, thinking victoriously that Jinyoung’s given him what he wanted. He groans and tries to flex against him, against the notch of his knuckles inside him. But Jinyoung sweeps it back out swiftly, pursing his lips in thought and returning to nudging around his rim.

“Jnngh,” Jaebum growls through his teeth, and then Jinyoung’s eyes slide up to catch his desperate gaze, just as he slips his finger back into him.

“—nyoung!” Jaebum blurts out, and then his mouth stays open, as Jinyoung thrusts once, twice, before crooking his finger and bumping it up against his insides. Jaebum’s voice cracks into a groan then, just a jumble of vowels as Jinyoung finds a particularly sensitive angle and adds pressure from the outside with his thumb. Pinched, Jaebum’s pleasure crests over him in a burst, and eyes shut, he feels Jinyoung’s own arousal spiking with his own. 

He feels the echoing pulse of his hot insides against his own finger, the pounding of their heartbeats synchronized in his ears. If Jinyoung would only just keep hitting that spot, just a few more times.

But Jinyoung isn’t about to let him come. He’s sliding his finger back out and pressing back in with two this time, and Jaebum’s never felt so close and so far all at the same time.

The stretch burns a bit. Not too sharp, but fresh. There’s a new sensation now, and it doesn’t build up to the same, simple nudge of bliss he’d felt before.

Jinyoung scissors his fingers apart and back together, and then scrapes back against his prostate again on a tug back. Then he repeats it, pleasure building with each pulse, the stretch feeling more and more like a fit, like a promise made and kept. Jaebum whimpers.

“You look so cute like this,” Jinyoung says, suddenly.

Jaebum can feel himself flush, heat prickling all the way from the top of his head into each wriggling, ticklish foot. He’s embarrassed — humiliated, even — left bare and powerless with his feet in the air and his ass squeezing around Jinyoung’s slick, plunging fingers.

“Don’t tease me,” he groans quietly. “Just fuck me like you want.”

Jinyoung pouts, and then he giggles deep in his chest as he bends over Jaebum, trying to chase his lips for a kiss. “I want it like this,” he says with a twist of his fingers.

He keeps pressing into him, massaging his prostate so Jaebum nearly hiccups in pleasure, hips twitching as he tries to reach the crest of orgasm, suddenly so much close now. Jinyoung slips his fingers back out and away just in time.

Jaebum tries to avoid his kiss in retaliation, digging his chin defiantly into a shoulder and feeling too flustered to give in. But Jinyoung grasps him by the back of his hair, suddenly. And then he’s yanking his head up from the futon and kissing him fiercely. 

Jaebum admits to himself, he may have miscalculated Jinyoung’s sexual character. He’d thought Jinyoung would want to go slow, would want things sweet and soulful. And maybe he still would, in another instance. 

But when he gives him this power, when he asks to be  _ fucked, _ Jinyoung will deliver on that.

Jaebum’s almost completely distracted by the force of Jinyoung’s kiss, almost swept away by how he’s sucked Jaebum’s tongue completely into his mouth, moaning into him. He almost doesn’t notice, but then it’s too hard, too tight, and Jinyoung is pressing his cock into him.

Jaebum gasps for air, smearing his mouth to the side to cry out in surprise. There’d been no warning, Jinyoung’s two fingers relocated to press sticky at his hip as he guides himself forward.

The head feels so thick, a blunt pressure that’s suddenly overwhelming. He doesn’t know how long Jinyoung’s cock is, doesn’t know how much is inside him as he moves forward. Just knows that he’s big — that he’s big and  _ inside him. _

“Why’d — weren’t you supposed to go up to three fingers?” Jaebum asks, mind firing off a mix of signals. Is he ready? Is he stretched enough? Is this anything like what he’s seen —  _ god, it feels so good _ , but there’s a burn, unlike anything Jaebum’s ever felt, as Jinyoung groans and presses his face into his neck.

“I’m trying to fuck you,” Jinyoung says. “Not fist you. I don’t want you to come just from me playing with you, either. And I’m not sure how how long I’ll last—!” He gasps here as if in emphasis, stilling as Jaebum feels his hips bump into his.

“A little bit of burn can be good,” Jinyoung murmurs, voice gone smoky now, thick and trembling. “A little sting makes it all sweeter.”

At this, he grinds his pelvis around in a circle, just shifting the weight of himself inside of Jaebum. 

Jaebum cries out, eyes clamping shut. “Go easy on me,” he grimaces, arms flinging apart to dig into the mattress. He’s gasping for air, each breath seeming just slightly out of reach, hazy and high on this feeling of fullness.

Jinyoung’s absolutely  _ stuffed _ into him, the heat and stretch of him like a pulsing white light in his peripheral he can’t escape. He tries to switch his hips, to diffuse the pressure, but it blurs into pleasure instead, driving Jinyoung deeper.

Their swapping feels relatively quiet, too much feeling coursing between both their bodies now to fully parse who’s who except when he keeps his eyes shut. And now, even the burn of the stretch lends itself to the dizzy sensation, having mellowed out into a buzz, a hum at the base of his spine that he knows will ache tomorrow.

Jinyoung only murmurs in response, starting to fuck back and forth slowly, rocking into Jaebum an inch at a time until he adjusts to the fit, to the feel of him.

It’s felt good all along, but this movement is especially familiar, a pumping rhythm Jaebum’s heard banged out against this wall before. Only now, it’s punctuated with his own needy gasps. Jaebum’s futon frame creaks with each of Jinyoung’s thrusts, rocking and groaning under their efforts along with him.

Jinyoung picks up speed, the squelch of him yet another instrument in their shameless, repetitive symphony. He fucks Jaebum hard into the mattress, leaning back as his grunts start to choke off into whines of his own. “Feel good,” he chokes out. “You feel so good. Take all of me, hyung.”

Jaebum has a moment where he remembers being jealous, remembers Jinyoung calling Yoo  _ hyung _ in a voice that was so light and sexy on the phone. He remembers wanting that for himself.

But this is a different voice entirely — husky and commanding.  _ Take all of me, _ he says, and Jaebum can’t help but flex himself around him, can’t help but angle himself up to feel his thrusts hit deeper. He wants Jinyoung’s hips to stutter against him, wants Jinyoung to curse and stammer and come explosively.

Jinyoung seems to notice his writhing, and he yanks the pillow out from under Jaebum then, drawing back and almost completely out for a moment. Jaebum sputters in protest, fingers tapping back against the cushion as if he’s forgotten how to speak, how to beg for Jinyoung to be inside him again.

Jinyoung repositions himself standing at the edge of the futon, and he drags Jaebum’s bottom over to meet his hips. He stretches Jaebum’s legs up over his own shoulders and thrusts a few times to test this change in depth. Jaebum writhes and whines, trying to tug him back in closer, wanting to feel him panting into his neck again, to feel Jinyoung come apart along with him. 

He digs desperate, pleading fingers into Jinyoung’s hips, trying to find some comfort in the soft curve of his flesh.

As if summoned, Jinyoung curls back over him again, swinging one of his own feet back up beside him on the mattress for leverage. Then he’s able to pound down into him, deeper into Jaebum’s center. 

Jaebum outright sobs. The spot Jinyoung’s hitting now is pushing him over the edge. Each thrust is like a punch of pleasure, a wave of wet, excruciating bliss that Jaebum tries to clench down around and hold onto for just a moment longer. But Jinyoung’s always sliding back out already, and back in again, heightening the sensation.

Eyes shut, fingers gripped tight into the fat of Jinyoung’s thigh, Jaebum feels their bond stretch, and slide like his body. His own cock is twitching, flexing without being touched, as he feels the same heat and intensity that Jinyoung’s chasing after. Then Jinyoung’s fingers, firm around the tip of him, tugging up like he’d seen Jaebum do to himself before.

Jinyoung picks up his speed then, slamming into him like a jackhammer as he jerks him off, and the futon hits the wall over and over and over and over. 

Jaebum’s fingers slip and scrape at his hips, and he starts to yelp in concert with the slapping of their skin. 

He can barely understand what’s happening then, barely form a cohesive thought. His mind has melted into nothing but rhythm now, just  _ ah, ah, ah—! _ Barely notices Jinyoung curling deeper over now, arm relaxing beside his head, and wrapping around the back of Jaebum’s neck.

He does it so he can kiss him, hips stuttering out of rhythm finally, and while his last few thrusts are rough, his embrace is just as gentle as he’s always been with Jaebum. 

His mouth is just a soft blur at first, bumping clumsy into Jaebum’s until he finds purchase. Until his hot, panting breath slows enough to let their tongues touch, to let Jaebum bite down on the fat of his bottom lip.

There’s a split second then, with Jinyoung coming inside of him, as Jaebum tumbles over the edge with him, where Jaebum feels like they’re one.

And he isn’t sure — maybe that’s the magic, or maybe that’s just the way sex can make you feel sometimes. 

Tied up in a knot, with one of his closest friends in the whole world. With someone who’s an intrinsic part of his own destiny. His past, his present, and hopefully his future.

Maybe this is all something simpler after all. Something as old as magic, and just as transformative. 

Jinyoung shoots hard, and Jaebum feels each hot pulse inside of him, just as he releases between them. And then he’s much too sensitive, the feeling of Jinyoung’s softening cock suddenly almost unbearable, sharply felt inside him until the pressure releases and he eases back out.

The sudden slip of fluid afterward startles Jaebum next, and he feels nervous, out of control and a little embarrassed as Jinyoung strokes his face softly, kissing his eyelids in comfort.

“I’ve got you,” Jinyoung whispers to him. And Jaebum’s heart shudders in his chest, all of his doubt melted away into deep affection.

Jinyoung’s barely helped him turn onto his side, before he’s already curling up and dozing off beside him without a single thought about the sticky mess they’ve made. They’re mirrored now, like two quotation marks, a spattering of cum and unspoken history between them. 

Jaebum watches Jinyoung’s features relax, into something soft and entirely stressless. Something closer to the younger Jinyoung he’d first met.

And even as he wobbles off to the bathroom to get some wet wipes, Jaebum’s grateful. Even as he’s sore, wiping Jinyoung’s body down with soft, gentle motions so as not to wake him, he thinks about how this strange body swapping spell might have changed his life for the better.

Maybe it would turn into a blessing, after all.

//

They’re at Céci for a group shoot and interview the next week. It’s been a while since they did this with the whole group — and as always, that makes it a little chaotic, in the best way.

It’s easy to slip out of their more professional roles, giggling and teasing each other the way they normally do.

But still, when they’re working like this, it’s best to assume everything is being monitored, if not recorded. Fans love every bit of footage, even if it’s only a few seconds of them goofing off. 

So Jaebum tries to keep a healthy, on-brand distance between him and Jinyoung. Nothing over the top, but never neglecting a handshake here or there.

But it’s  _ hard _ not to notice him more now.

Beyond the way he’s grown accustomed to keeping Jinyoung company, he’s also just... so attractive. Letting their relationship turn sexual hadn’t actually relieved that tension — it seems to have heightened it.

It blares out loud at Jaebum, even across a room.

The concept and costuming for this shoot is baristas; something they’d explored before for a fanmeeting, but it wasn’t quite to this extent. The magazine lets them luxuriate in it. The location is a coffee shop in a modern loft, and the low, pink light of dusk filters in through enormous window panes. 

They’re often backlit, hair and skin glowing with halos as they fiddle with the equipment and make a mess. There are fixings for all sorts of beverages and toppings, and a full pastry case. Acoustic music warbles throughout, and Jaebum has to admit it’s all sort of lovely, indulgent.

Mark and BamBam are cackling in one corner with some whipped cream, as Yugyeom, Youngjae and Jackson try to figure out the espresso machine. Jinyoung has studiously ignored helping them, even though Jaebum knows he knows exactly what they’re doing wrong.

Instead, Jinyoung’s perched up on a table beside a glass pot, watching a blooming tea unfurl in the last few beams of golden hour. Jaebum swallows down his nerves and sidles up next to him, fixing himself a cup to go with the scene.

The rhythm of camera shutters grounds him, a gentle reminder this isn’t their private life. But Jinyoung’s figure, his pink ears and fingertips, and the deliberate way he pours Jaebum a serving is a welcome distraction from the work.

Jaebum watches him stir sugar into his own glass, eyes soft and lips parted.

Jaebum gestures to the pot of honey on the other side of Jinyoung’s thigh, asking for a dollop. He expects Jinyoung to use the honey dipper, swirl up just a bit and pass it over.

But Jaebum catches the slightest smirk on Jinyoung’s thick lips as he turns away, and that should have warned him. 

Instead, he’s taken wholly by surprise as Jinyoung turns back with a scoop of honey on the tips of two long, elegant fingers. He doesn’t say anything, just opens his mouth at Jaebum, eyes sparkling and eyebrows high. 

And Jaebum, a lovestruck, hungry idiot, lets his jaw drop open in response. 

Jinyoung slips the honey right between his lips, fingers sliding slick and slow into his mouth. Jaebum’s breath leaves him, body tensing up for a moment as his mind goes blank. But he sucks it down, leaning forward even as Jinyoung draws his hand back. 

It’s sweet, a little bit floral. For a split second, Jaebum’s eyes are shut and it’s all he can focus on. But then he’s snapping them open to the rapid shutter of a camera, cheeks flushing as he realizes he needs to change the tone of the moment.

But first, punishment.

Jaebum chases after Jinyoung’s hand as he tries to retract it, looking suddenly affected, cheeks flushing. 

Jaebum reaches out and grabs his arm, and Jinyoung barks out a laugh as it’s tugged back towards his mouth. Jaebum traces his tongue down over the mound of his palm, cleaning off the last few amber droplets that glisten there, and then down along the veins in his wrist.

Jaebum is reminded, in a flash, of the way lube dripped down Jinyoung’s fingers when they’d been inside him. Of the gentle slide where they’d first connected. Sticky sweet memories.

“Hyung!” Jinyoung shrieks, and he finally seems embarrassed, as Jaebum has effectively caged him on the counter.

Jaebum chuckles into his face, chin poking forward smugly. “You wanted to be a spoon,” he says, “so let me finish my bite.”

Jinyoung covers his face with hands then, and Jaebum eases off, recollecting his tea and turning away as coolly as he can manage.

It feels dangerous, blood rushing in his ears as his mind trails off, a quick fantasy of where things could have led if they were alone. There’s a lot of opportunity here, for both the thrill of exhibitionism — and the risk of slipping too far on camera.

In the present, BamBam hovers beside him now with an empty mug, looking queasy. “Remind me to never hand you anything,” he says to Jaebum.

Jaebum chases after him with his tongue out, like a lumbering, hungry yeti, and BamBam screeches and yanks Jackson out between them as a shield.

The next day, the magazine posts a teaser of behind-the-scenes clips to their Instagram. Of course, it includes their risky interaction, and Jaebum has to refrain from tapping every heart on fans’ positive reactions and slowed-down reposts.

By then he’s already written half of a new song that he plans to post later — he writes about a voice like honey, the sweetest sting, and the taste of someone’s nectar. Maybe a handful of listeners will connect the dots.

But he thinks it might be worth the risk, because he’ll know the truth; and so will Jinyoung.

//

“What happens... if this doesn’t work out?” Jinyoung asks, quietly, a few nights later. 

“If  _ we  _ don’t work out? _ ” _

Jaebum’s mind races. They’re in his apartment, cuddled up with a late movie. It’s not a great idea, as they have a radio appearance early the next morning. But it’s hard to resist stealing away some quiet moments, tucking them into their busy schedules. 

“What do you—?” Jaebum starts, and then tries not to feel frustrated. Jinyoung is asking out of fear. It’s not unfamiliar. “I don’t really know what you want me to say,” he admits. “I don’t know any better than you do.”

Jinyoung’s expression crumples, and Jaebum realizes he hasn’t said the right thing. Not to express his own thoughts, and not to communicate his commitment to Jinyoung.

Jinyoung gets up from the bed, and Jaebum grabs him by the wrist, yanking himself up to stand by his side.

“Wait,” he says. “Wait a minute, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I  _ know _ what you mean,” Jinyoung says. “Of course it isn’t fair to say everything will work out. We have no idea about the future.”  _ But? _

Jaebum swallows, letting his fingers relax around his forearm. He doesn’t need to be forceful, in this moment. He just needs to let Jinyoung know he’s there.

“But sometimes, I still think about that scarf you used to lend me,” Jinyoung says. “Do you remember it? It’s not like it had magical powers; you couldn’t really keep me from catching cold, or tripping over myself when I had too much to drink. But it was warm. And most of all, it reminded me of you. It reminded me you cared about me.”

He pauses, looking up at Jaebum, and his eyes waver. Wanting.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jaebum says, finally. “Because we’ll have each other.”

It’s not a lie, not an empty statement tossed out to appease him. It takes work to stay close, and Jaebum’s already learned that. In love, it will take even more work, from both of them.

Jaebum’s hand stills on Jinyoung’s arm then, something clicking into place. Suddenly, his breath comes shorter, and he has to swallow down the words as they bubble up in his chest.

_ I love you, _ he thinks. 

“Come back to bed,” he says instead, kissing him softly. 

Jinyoung does as he’s told, laying back and gazing up at Jaebum with wide, curious eyes.

Jaebum knows, he still hasn’t made good on his promise to fuck his brains out. But he wants to take things slowly, now that they aren’t in a hurry. Now that they’re safely situated in their own bodies and knowing that they’re willing to go the distance.

He knows they’ll never get a shot at a normal relationship. They didn’t start normal and they won’t end that way either. But to just curl up beside each other, quietly, at the end of a day? That’s precious to Jaebum, as thrilling as swapping spit and grinding hips.

//

**Jinyoung**

It’s been over two weeks since they slept together. 

Jinyoung doesn’t regret it, but he’s honestly a little nervous to bring it up with Jaebum again.

He’s dreamt about it a few times now, about feeling Jaebum’s pulse, deep inside of him. About the way he’d let Jinyoung manhandle him backwards, fuck deep into him. How they’d left a scuff on the wall with the futon.

And he does want more of it — indiscriminate sometimes with his fantasies, Jinyoung on top and inside of Jaebum, or Jinyoung on top and bouncing on Jaebum’s cock. His body and mind don’t seem to mind either way.

But the album’s dropped, they’re knee-deep into the promotional circuit, and they haven’t progressed past their first time. They kiss, and touch, and cuddle. They suck each other off when time allows it, or if their hotel arrangements accommodate sneaking around. But that’s the extent of it.

They haven’t shared their relationship shift with the other members, although Jinyoung’s sure some of them might have suspicions. It’s not an intentional secret, but the timing just hasn’t been right. And they don’t want to throw things off with management by being bold and requesting shared rooms and vans all of a sudden.

The body swapping seems like it’s definitively stopped. 

Jinyoung figures it’s either to do with their relationship coming together, or Jaebum bottoming and their… coming together. Probably a little bit of both. Regardless, things have simmered down.

Except sometimes, Jaebum dips his hand low when it’s on the small of Jinyoung’s back. And he’ll trace his fingers up the side of his ribcage, teasingly wrapping around to just miss his nipple when they line up alongside each other. 

Sometimes, even if a crowd isn’t that dense, Jinyoung will loiter in front of Jaebum for a beat too long, his bottom coincidentally brushing back into his groin.

They’re a little unfair to one another — and Jinyoung revels in it. 

There’s a gap in the schedule today, a few hours to kill after a countdown debut and before they head into a fansigning. They’vea already arrived at the second location and are all lazing about the green room, in various states of of dress and undress. 

Staff are blessedly out of the room for the moment, and Jinyoung keeps looking at Jaebum, wondering if he’s going to  _ say _ something. 

They haven’t discussed exactly what they’d call it, or how they’d explain it to everybody. But Jinyoung has been clear he doesn’t want to be kept too deep in the dark. Jaebum knows he’s tired of being treated like something shameful.

But Mark and Yugyeom beat them to the punch anyway, downloading the group on the details of Yugyeom’s magic powers. It’s uncharacteristically quiet afterward.

BamBam takes the faerie revelation only a little worse than the witch news, eyebrows high for a moment before screwing up into a quizzical expression.

“Wait, this guy?” He jerks a thumb at Yugyeom. “You’re telling me  _ Yugyeom _ is magic, too?? You guys know he can’t even fall asleep alone, right?”

“Fae are very social creatures,” Mark says. “It actually makes sense.”

“I can’t believe Euigyeom would hide this from us,” Jackson jokes, deadpan. Yugyeom playfully punches him in the arm.

“It…  _ is _ kind of silly though,” Youngjae says. “To think, Yugyeom is afraid of the dark, and spiders, when all along he’s had  _ secret powers?” _

Yugyeom looks bashful, shrugging. 

BamBam suddenly groans, throwing up his hands. “C’mon, man!” He looks genuinely frustrated. 

“How many times were seniors and trainees on our cases at the beginning?” He asks. “And we get slammed by haters every day. Our own company tells us the music we make isn’t ours. But this whole time... we’ve had, half of friggin’ Hogwarts hiding in this group?  _ What exactly  _ have _ you been using your magic for?” _

“BamBam,” Yugyeom whispers, trying to grab his sleeve. “I’m sorry,  _ seriously. _ But it’s been hard on us too.”

“It wouldn’t be right for them to mess with the company,” Jackson says, brusquely. “I don’t want that. I don’t want magic success. I want us to achieve what we deserve. Because we’ve worked hard.”

Jaebum clears his throat, nodding seriously.

BamBam bristles at the implication, picking away at a fake bouquet on the makeup counter, visibly agitated as he twists off a plastic leaf. “I didn’t mean we shouldn’t work hard. You know I do, I bust my ass everyday. But those guys who used to bully us? How many times did we just barely slip away—??”

“I once gave Yoo Youngjae a rash,” Mark says, suddenly. His gaze is off somewhere in the distance, voice almost fond. 

_ That’s quite an interruption,  _ Jinyoung thinks, raising his eyebrows.

“With magic?” BamBam asks. “Like a curse??”

Mark nods, smile wide. “After an argument. It wasn’t even a bad fight — I can’t remember, but it was stupid, for sure.” He hums in thought, like he’s savoring the memory. “Anyway, I felt really proud of myself, for a minute. It was hilarious seeing him waddle his way through stretching class.”

“What kind of rash…” Jackson murmurs, quietly.

“But then: I dropped an ice cream, Jackson sprained an ankle, and Jinyoung got food poisoning. All in the same day. Karma is real,” Mark concludes.

“All you lost was one ice cream,” says BamBam, skeptically. “Everything else happened to other people. You don’t even know they’re related!”

“Karma is at the very core of magic,” Mark says serenely, like he’s reciting a proverb. “But this is part of why I wouldn’t have told you. Because you’re not willing to take it seriously.”

BamBam doesn’t look bothered by this declaration, but he locks his eyes on Yugyeom, face sober.

“I thought we told each other everything,” he says, more quietly. “But I guess you couldn’t trust me.”

A beat passes. Jinyoung suddenly feels like there might be too many of them, for this serious of a turn in conversation.

“Sometimes it’s more about timing than trust,” Jinyoung offers, and he and Jaebum exchange glances. 

“But the first thing you’re asking, is why didn’t Yugyeom do anything  _ for you?” _ Mark points out, still on BamBam’s case. “Were we wrong, not to trust you?”

BamBam looks especially frustrated now. He twists away from Mark’s stare, arms crossing tight across his chest. Jinyoung feels his heart tug in sympathy. It’s fair to relate things to yourself first, to think about how this has affected them all individually. 

“That’s not what he means,” Jaebum says, to Mark. And his sensitivity surprises Jinyoung for a moment, but it probably shouldn’t. Jaebum treats BamBam like a real brother, pliant even when it drives him to his wit’s end.

“Bam-ah,” Yugyeom says, sweeping up behind BamBam and hugging him from behind. “You’re okay. It’s okay to be mad.  _ I would be too. _ I figured you’d find out, one way or another, but I’ve been taught that it’s safer for others not to know. Safer for me, but for you, too.”

BamBam rolls his lips together, peering back up at him through their reflection in the mirrors. 

“If someone found out, if somebody was asking questions,” Yugyeom continues, drawing back. “It’s easier to have it be a secret for real. You’d be able to deny it better. But I know — I know I can trust you.” 

BamBam shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. He’s still looking ruffled, but eager to move on. His feelings have already been hurt, but safety takes precedence, and nobody can argue with that.

In retrospect, things before the bodyswap seem simpler. But that’s an illusion — they had problems before they knew about magic, and they still have problems now. 

The group’s dynamic will never be perfect, or always easy, Jinyoung thinks. It’s something they’ll have to grow through forever, regardless of magic. But that’s the nature of family.

“On the plus side,” Jinyoung says, and he sends Jaebum another meaningful glance, “I think we’re officially free of the balancing swap.”

Yugyeom beams back at him, and it’s just the positive boost they need. Even BamBam looks visibly brighter, relieved, as he shuffles back into their circle.

“What  _ did it,  _ hyung?” Yuygeom asks.

“We’ve been working on our relationship,” Jinyoung says, easily. Because it’s the truth, though maybe not explicit. “And we’ve developed a better...  _ understanding _ of each other.” 

Jaebum gives him a nod, small and subtle.

Jackson and Mark look especially suspicious of this wording, glancing between each other and back at them. But they stay quiet.

“But the  _ physicality,” _ Yugyeom mutters, a wrinkle between his brows. “I was sure it would take something physical, to break the body magic.”

“Jinyoung and I… are together,” Jaebum interrupts, clearing his throat again. “And we’d like to ask for you guys to be… uh, patient. And quiet with us.”

Which is  _ honestly, _ a lot to ask of their members. Jinyoung knows it is. But he also thinks this is the best way to do this. While there’s safety in plausible deniability, like Yugyeom alluded to, there’s power in a united front. In allies.

“You’re  _ dating??” _ Mark asks, eyebrows high. He’d seemed curious before, but maybe he hadn’t thought it was serious.

“Each... other?” Youngjae clarifies, pointing between them.

Jaebum nods firmly. 

BamBam seems like he’s taken this entire time to process it, and suddenly starts slapping Yugyeom’s shoulders. “Because of  _ this idiot?” _ He hollers, shocked. “Because of that… stupid body swap blessing??”

Yugyeom shrinks away from BamBam’s blows, but his expression just keeps brightening. “Hyung!” He cries out. “That’s amazing! You’ve balanced out perfectly, then??”

But then he freezes.

“Wait, wait,” he says, a giggle slowly bubbling up in his chest. “If you’re  _ together…  _ the physical thing you did must have been...??”

“Please shut up,” Jinyoung says, between tightly gritted teeth.

“Pleeeease,” Mark moans in agreement, slapping his hands over his ears. 

Jackson rolls his beanie down over his entire face and breathes a melodramatic, silent scream into the fabric.

“Oh my god,” BamBam is guffawing along with Yugyeom, now. “What the hell did you tell us for?? We don’t need to know that!”

Jaebum’s eyes blow wide and he gestures angrily at Yugyeom. “You just huffed and puffed at Yugyeom for _not_ _telling you_ enough!” He says. 

BamBam shrugs. “Yeah, but this is really personal,” he says.

“So is Yugyeom  _ being a faerie!”  _ Jaebum sputters out, exasperated.

_ There it is,  _ Jinyoung thinks. BamBam might’ve finally broken Jaebum.

“But yours is _ grro-osss,” _ Yugyeom says, through a chortle. “Who wants to think about you two... doing stuff?”

“Stop mentioning it!” Mark shrieks and breaks into laughter with them, waving his hands wildly. 

Jackson yanks his beanie off and gasps for air, joining the chorus of hyenas.

“We didn’t tell you about us  _ doing anything,” _ Jinyoung snaps.  _ “You _ said that! And anyway, plenty of our fans like to think about us doing stuff.”

“Your fans do," BamBam says, slow and clear like he’s explaining something to a child, “and  _ it’s still gross.”  _

“You guys have way too many secrets,” Jackson interrupts, and then turns and grabs Youngjae by his arms, shaking him back and forth. “What are you, a werewolf or something? Is Coco  _ really _ your baby?!”

Youngjae’s laughter rings out the loudest over the continued chatter, and the chaos of the moment is suddenly soothing to Jinyoung. 

This is home, alright. How  _ else _ would he expect them to react, except with utter, total absurdity? It’s the kindest thing he can imagine from them, to treat it exactly as ludicrous as they treat everything else.

Between Youngjae’s laughter and Mark’s frantic, sweeping festiculation, Jinyoung finds Jaebum’s eyes. And they smile, in sync.

//

**Jaebum**

They’ve all gotten pretty comfortable around each other, and their staff, after working together for so long.

But the company still makes sure to provide a private changing area for schedules, and Jinyoung uses it more consistently than the others. He’s not shy, especially not since the others have been praising his physique lately. But he is particular, and maybe even a little superstitious, about changing alone at the end of each event.

So Jaebum knows exactly where Jinyoung’s headed as soon as they file off stage at the fan signing. And he ducks in after him easily, a little while later, when nobody seems to be looking. The curtain flutters shut behind him, and Jaebum’s stomach flutters too.

“I’ll be right out,” Jinyoung’s murmuring as he turns around, but his breath stalls and he actually takes a step back when he sees who’s interrupting him. It’s interesting to see him like this, topless and a little vulnerable, the emotional opposite of the Jinyoung from his studio.

“Take your time,” Jaebum whispers as he crowds into him, hands already on Jinyoung’s hips.

And Jinyoung tilts his chin to meet his lips, to connect them in a quiet, dangerous kiss.

They’ve only got a few minutes to spare, managers and members usually antsy about getting on the road. So Jaebum cuts to the chase, tongue licking Jinyoung’s lips apart and pressing him back against the mirror. The skin of Jinyoung’s shoulders drags along the glass, and he lets out a whine to match it, arching his back.

Jaebum hikes one of Jinyoung’s knees up around his hip, and he grinds into him slowly, suddenly needy for friction. “Been thinking about my promise,” he whispers, into a flushed ear.

Jinyoung whimpers a bit with another thrust, pushing Jaebum’s hair off his forehead. “I’m holding you to it,” he says. “A deal’s a deal, hyung.”

Jaebum grins at him, toothy and goofy and eager. “Are you free tonight?” He asks.

“I’ll make some time,” Jinyoung whispers, and presses a kiss to the moles over Jaebum’s eye.

Jaebum’s leaning in to taste him once again, when the noise outside goes abruptly quiet. The door slams shut after an apparently large group, and Jaebum holds his breath for a moment, wondering if there’s anyone left in the room with them.

Jinyoung has started to wriggle in his embrace impatiently, but he stills when a cough sounds out. Mark’s voice follows.

_ “Tell me,  _ Yugyeom,” he’s saying.

Jaebum lets Jinyoung down, slowly, and then they both creep over by the gap between the curtain and the booth’s walls. Through a slit, they can see the two members who are still loitering around.

Mark is leaned against the makeup counter, a pensive Yugyeom seated beside him. Something’s been left unsaid.

“I  _ know _ you know something else,” Mark says, brows low and suspicious. “You’ve been looking like you’re about to burst all night. Is it about the spell?”

Yugyeom bites into his lower lip, long lashes fluttering as he examines a loose thread on his ripped jeans. He lets out a sigh, even though he’s smiling.

“It wasn’t because of the spit, hyung,” he says, finally looking up.

Mark doesn’t respond. He just tilts his head back and raises his eyebrows, inviting explanation.

“Well,” Yugyeom says. “I mean — that limited it to them. But it wasn’t quite the conflict that did it.”

“I think the conflict is why it switched in the first place,” he continues, swirling a finger in the air. “But the reason it went full-body, more than just a flashback, was because it was linked to their souls.” He pauses again, waiting for Mark to catch up.

Jinyoung’s breath hitches beside him, but Jaebum wills himself to stay focused, not wanting to miss a word.

“The balancing spell looped like that because of their auras. Have you seen them? I know you have to cast to see the colors…” Yugyeom turns away for a moment, scrambling for a pen and a nearby pad of sticky notes.

“Fae can naturally read aura,” Yugyeom murmurs, scrawling out a circle. “So I guess I should have known better than to mess with these two in the first place. But you know, aura compatibility isn’t everything, so I don’t think about it very much.”

And he draws a smaller circle, and then a final one in the center, so it looks like a target, with three sections. He starts to write a color into each area.

“Jaebum hyung’s leads with red out here,” he says, pointing at each label. “Then, magenta, then baby yellow in the middle.”

He peels the sticky note off the pad and sticks it aside, repeating the circular framework and then starting to label it differently.

“Jinyoungie hyung’s, on the other hand, has that pale yellow along the outside, then a deeper yellow, then red in the center.”

“Reversed?” Mark wonders.

“Almost,” says Yugyeom. “But most importantly—!” And he slowly slides this note atop the other one with a flourish. He nods at them, beaming.

“They’re on top of each other…?” Mark asks, frowning at the stickies in thought.

“No,” Yugyeom waves his hands. “It’s hard to think about it on these, but! If you layered the colors together?” 

Mark snaps his fingers at the pile with a huff, and the drawings wriggle up off the paper into floating, full color expressions of aura — like the glowing gradient he’d revealed above Yugyeom the other night. “You can use your magic, Gyeom,” he chides.

They watch as the auras overlap each other for a moment, and then twinkle out of sight.

“It’s the blend!” Yuygeom points out. “When you blend these colors, they all become a shade of orange. See? Their separate aspects become one.”

“Soulmates?” Mark asks, picking up the note stack and turning slowly towards the row of changing booths. Jaebum chokes back a noise as they make eye contact.

“They fit together,” Yugyeom says, cheerfully. “It’s not that they were switching, exactly. Their energies were already connected.”

“That’s how they paired at auditions,” Mark murmurs. “Right? And why destiny keeps putting them together, in GOT7, and even in your weak, spitty spell.”

Yugyeom shrugs, but he does look a bit pleased with himself.

Jaebum turns back to Jinyoung then, and finds him leaned back against the mirror with his arms crossed.

Jinyoung’s face is pale, and he’s shaking his head. “It can’t be like that,” he whispers. 

Jaebum isn’t sure why he seems upset. It’s a good thing, isn’t it? To belong with each other. His face must say as much, because Jinyoung lets out an irritated noise.

“You’re just going to attribute everything to that?” Jinyoung asks. “To fate? To some sort of weird magical chemistry we have no choice in? That’s not  _ real, _ soulmates don’t exist.”

“How can you say that?” Jaebum says. “We’ve been _in each others’ bodies,_ because of a _faerie’s_ _spell,_ and you want to stand there and pronounce that soulmates aren’t real enough for you?? How is that one step too far, all of a sudden?”

“Because I  _ know _ it wasn’t fate,” Jinyoung says, looking anxious, voice tight. “I  _ know _ that not everything that happened to us was some roll of the cosmic dice, Beom-ah.”

Jaebum is confused, left on edge by the sudden bluster. He’d been happy to hear their energies mixed well. Couldn’t Jinyoung at least admit it’s  _ nice? _ It doesn’t have to control their lives.

“Remember I said, with my sugar daddies, nothing  _ awful _ happened,” Jinyoung murmurs. “I told you: they’ve all been kind, and it gave me control, when I needed it the most.”

Jaebum isn’t sure where this is headed; why bring this up now? He’d thought this was all in the past. Thought they’d settled things and were moving forward.

“My first… the first one. He couldn’t even afford very much. He was a manager in the company, but probably not the one you’re thinking of. He had a good job, but he was no Gong Yoo, you know? He... didn’t have a ton of money, but he had influence.”

Jaebum clenches his jaw, still uncomfortable with the idea. Especially imagining Jinyoung so young, wheeling and dealing with grown men. But he stays quiet, letting Jinyoung recount the story in his own time.

“I asked my first one for a  _ favor _ instead,” Jinyoung says.

Jaebum’s gut flips over on itself.

“When you and I were  _ between _ things,” Jinyoung’s voice is trembling. “It was right after JJ Project, just before GOT7 was settled, while we were training separately. I asked him… if you were assigned to a group. Could he  _ promise, _ that I’d be considered for it, too?”

And there it is — Jaebum’s breath leaves him for the moment. It feels like he’s been left to float out in space. Head and lungs empty, in a vacuum without solid ground.

The destiny he’d kept returning to, like an anchor. The way they’d stayed paired even when they were decidedly no longer a pair; it wasn’t just management’s choice. It wasn’t a challenge, it wasn’t even a preference. 

It had been Jinyoung, asking for a favor.

“What...?” Jaebum whispers. “Why? Even though I’d treated you the way I did?”

Jinyoung bites down on his lip. “It was all I wanted,” he said. “To debut with you again. To be by your side, even if it was in a bigger group. And it meant more to me, than any of the other gifts I’ve ever gotten.”

Jaebum swallows, mind churning, frothing with white noise.

“We’re not fated,” Jinyoung says. “I was just selfish then, and I’m selfish now. You shouldn’t be stuck with someone just because they tried so hard to be near you, or a company paired you up, or a faerie fucked up their spell. You should be with someone because you  _ want _ to be with them.”

He pauses, and Jaebum knows what he needs to say. Knows what Jinyoung needs to hear. 

But it’s overwhelming — there’s too much racing through his head now, and he doesn’t know.  _ Does _ Jaebum believe in destiny? A day ago he would’ve said yes. 

Jinyoung takes his silence as dismissal, and he sweeps past Jaebum and out through the curtain in a flash.

Jaebum doesn’t snap out of it until he hears the door slam shut, and his mind sputters back together. He ducks out to find Mark and Yugyeom gazing at him sympathetically.

“I think he might have misunderstood,” Mark starts to say. 

Jaebum cricks his neck, unsure and uncomfortable. “Maybe we all did,” he says.

  
//

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also made you guys [a little aura gif](https://i.imgur.com/sO8aPl2.gif) to explain the color theory Yugyeom's talking about here. 🍊!


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I'm so sorry for the long wait, but I really ran into a bit of a wall with this one. I've been swamped with work too, but honestly I usually still manage a good amount of writing when I'm busy. Sadly, that wasn't the case this time haha! 
> 
> Anyway, it took a bit more time but it's finally here, and I hope you all enjoy it!! It's been such a fun ride, let me know your thoughts!

//

“So, wait a minute,” Youngjae murmurs. “Soulmates are a thing. But Jinyoung hyung is mad about it?”

Jaebum is laying flat on his back, on the floor in Youngjae and Jackson’s hotel room. Touring has kicked off in Seoul, and they’re staying at a hotel close to the arena between the initial shows to keep everyone together for rehearsals and avoid traffic. 

It’s irritating, if he’s being honest, because he’d rather just stew on his own than have this conversation with the band, over and over.

But this is reality. And he and Jinyoung are still kind of in a funk.

In fact, it’s probably a little worse than past funks, because at least then they could play nice on-stage and on-camera. Right now, they’re avoiding each other almost completely — to the point of swerving out of each other’s way on-stage, ignoring each other in Vlives, and deliberately using other members to pass dishes at dinner.

It’s childish, but Jaebum doesn’t know how to resolve it, if Jinyoung insists on their bond being fiction.

“Well, I dunno,” says Jackson, looking thoughtful. “Imagine somebody just tells you: Youngjae-yah, Jackson is your soulmate. How’s that feel?”

Youngjae blushes, pressing his lips together as he seems to take a full moment to honestly consider it.

Jackson puts a hand to his heart in sincere surprise, eyebrows raised.

Youngjae bursts into an embarrassed laugh, waving it off. “Don’t misunderstand, hyung!” He cries out. “But I’d... give it a shot. Who wouldn’t?”

“But see,” Jackson says. “That doesn’t mean you  _ really want  _ me. That means you’ll try me — like I’m a new flavor of ice cream or something. And  _ who wouldn’t  _ isn’t exactly  _ I choose you. _ It isn’t exactly special.”

Something seems to click in Jaebum’s brain, and he sits up, sharply. “But we got together before Mark and Yugyeom talked about us fitting! I made the announcement to you guys  _ before _ all of that. I don’t know why he thinks it’s controlling my decision.”

“It just changes the chemistry,” Jackson says. “In retrospect, it looks less like you really wanted him and more like you had no choice.”

“Why can’t I want him  _ and  _ it be destiny?” Jaebum asks.

“Well,” Jackson hums. “I dunno. Haven’t people kind of wondered about fate and free will for basically all time—?”

“We don’t need an essay,” Youngjae says with a groan. “Weren’t you two  _ happy? _ Why does it have to be more complicated than that?”

“We were… getting there,” Jaebum sighs. “But Jinyoung’s had lots of doubts, and they haven’t been... totally unfounded. I know he was concerned about me and my um, identity. Like if this was all just a phase, or an experiment. And he’s worried about what’s going to happen to the group, depending on what happens with  _ us.” _

Jackson and Youngjae stay quiet another moment.

“And you’re…  _ not _ worried?” Youngjae asks, looking skeptical.

“Of course I have concerns,” Jaebum says. “But I can’t let fear drive everything I do.”

“So you’ve reassured him,” Jackson says. “You’ve told him: it’s all gonna be okay, because you love him…?”

Jaebum hesitates.

Youngjae groans out loud, flopping back against his bed. “Oh my god,” he murmurs through his fingers, hands crept over his face. “You haven’t even said  _ I love you.” _

“That’s none of your business,” Jaebum mumbles. 

“I’d say we’re sort of beyond that,” Jackson says. “What with all of us following along for the whole, body-swapping, sex magic, soulmate stuff.” 

“I told him — I promised we’d stay together,” Jaebum says, getting to his feet and starting to pace. This nervous, unresolved energy has made him especially restless. “I said we’d make it work because we have each other. I don’t know what else I can do to reassure him… he’s turned my whole world upside down, and I don’t know how to do that for him. I get that nobody wants to be told they  _ have _ to be together.”

He pauses at the window, catching his own nervous expression in the reflection. Jinyoung is probably just as nervous, he knows. “I just thought it was clear we were beyond that.”

The room is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. 

“Have you tried saying…  _ that?”  _ Jackson finally asks.

Jaebum runs a hand through his hair, and his bangs stubbornly brush back into his eyes. He turns around and shrugs.

“I guess... maybe I haven’t been very convincing,” he says. 

Jackson beckons him over, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

Jaebum collapses onto the mattress next to him, face buried in a pillow, and he lets Jackson run a comforting hand through his hair.

“You’ll figure it all out,” he says. “You just have to be real with him.”

There’s an eruption of shouts from the hallway — a chorus of loud, irritated voices. The mess sounds strangely familiar, even muffled by the distance.

_ “Seriously??”  _ A voice breaks through more clearly, as the door to their room cracks open. 

Jaebum wonders briefly about shared keycards, but his thoughts turn over on themselves as he sees who’s been shouting.

“You told them about soulmates, but you didn’t explain it wasn’t a compulsion??” Yoo Youngjae appears, with Mark trailing along behind him, expression sulky. 

Yugyeom is the last to slip inside, shutting the door behind them delicately, so it doesn’t slam. He lurks a few paces back, looking faintly guilty.

“I didn’t get to  _ tell them _ anything about it,” Mark says, rolling his eyes. “Yugyeom was telling me about their auras, and they turned out to be eavesdropping.”

“Well—!” Youngjae sweeps his arms out like he’s addressing an enormous audience. “You’re lucky there’s an actually  _ competent _ witch in town! You did right to call me, Mark.”

“Mark’s a perfectly good witch,” Yugyeom says, quietly.

“Mijoo has always said  _ I’m _ her favorite,” Youngjae says, smirking into Mark’s face.

“And you  _ believed _ her?” Mark asks, unruffled. “She says that to everybody.”

“She’s the one who told me it was  _ your _ rash hex,” Youngjae counters. “You think karma made you drop that ice cream?  _ Wrong!  _ My stealth skills are unmatched—!”

Mark snaps his fingers and Youngjae’s pants come unbuckled and plummet to the floor. He yelps, scrambling to yank them back up, but he’s already laughing along with the others.

“Hold on,” Jaebum exclaims, popping up with a frown. “Just hold the hell on.  _ Yoo Youngjae’s _ a witch too?? How many people are  _ witches, _ all of a sudden? Am I the only dickhead in town who doesn’t do magic?”

“Hey!” Jackson exclaims, reaching out and tugging Jaebum back into his side. He hushes him, speaking softly. “It’s okay, I’m a dickhead too, brother.”

Jaebum wriggles in his grip but gives up as Choi Youngjae bounces off of his bed and onto theirs, arms suddenly too tight around his middle.

“Me too,” he coos into Jaebum’s ear.

“You guys are really something else,” says the other Youngjae, waving a finger at Jaebum. “I don’t know if I’d go all the way to dickheads — but you're not much brighter. Yugyeom never said you  _ had  _ to be together. That’s not how soulmate bonds work.”

“But Mark said destiny put us together,” Jaebum mumbles, face still pressed forcefully into Jackson’s chest. “That seems like a pretty big deal.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Fate is harder to grasp in… regular people terms,” he says. “Humans have a vague idea of it, but we don’t think eternally, so it’s not exactly right.”

_ “Humans,” _ Jaebum repeats to himself. He’d never felt so belittled for his species before. “Yeah, fuck those, right?” 

“Remember when we talked about... unclenching?” Mark asks him.

Jaebum huffs and tries to turn his cheek away, but can’t in Jackon’s grip. So he stubbornly glares across at the lamp on the end table instead.

“Hey! There’s that other idea,” Jackson interrupts, finally letting him go. “The faerie tales about a red thread? Is that more human make-believe?? Or is that what their souls are doing?”

“It’s  _ complicated,” _ Yugyeom says, almost a whine. His eyes are sparkling more than ever lately, glimmering in such an iridescent way, Jaebum knows it must be his faerie side. Has it been awfully uncomfortable to hide it? Jaebum wonders. 

He motions for Yugyeom to join them.

“The red string isn’t some supreme being’s work,” Yugyeom continues, even as he pounces onto the mattress and shuffles into their pile. He edges in to curl up beside Youngjae, voice evening out. “Even if fate might have brought you together. You weave that thread yourselves.”

“Your future happens over time,” Yoo Youngjae says, nodding. “You’ve been keeping each other company, working together, foe years and years. Creating memories, and destiny. You grow  _ into _ one another.”

“Auras are just a part of the story,” Mark says, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Even if your colors are compatible, or reversed, or complementary. It’s all just potential. Nothing’s set in stone, until it is.”

“What does that mean?” Jaebum asks. “Until it is?”

“Just, until it is,” Mark repeats, shrugging. “Until you realize your own fate.”

“Hyung,” says their Youngjae, hair tickling Jaebum’s cheek as he peers down the bed at Mark. “If you can check to see someone’s aura, do you know who your soulmate would be? Can you see your thread to them?”

Mark turns to them slowly, and he’s biting his lip. “The thread isn’t like a line, really,” he says. “And you can’t see it. Nobody can, not even high-level witches or full-blood faeries. We can only guess at potential.”

He looks down, pressing a thumb into his palm, rubbing it slowly. “But you can feel it,” he says. “Just sometimes. Or it’s more like: you feel everything around you. You can’t hold onto anything. But you can feel  _ yourself _ being… drawn.”

Jaebum swallows heavy, thinking of the energetic flow he’d felt pulse around him and Jinyoung, and the way it had almost  _ shuddered _ in relief when they’d come together.

“The thing is, if you tug too hard trying to find where it goes — it can hurt. It  _ aches. _ ” He pauses, glancing back up at them. “Mine… snapped. And it hurt like nothing else I’ve ever felt.”

“What??” Yoo Youngjae yelps. “I’ve never heard of that — is that even  _ possible?” _

Jaebum’s stomach flips. It’s can’t be good when even the witches are surprised, he thinks.

“Oh, Mijoo hasn’t told you?” Mark asks, a sly sparkle in his eye. “You? Her  _ favorite little witch?” _

“Shut up,” Youngjae grumbles. “What happened to your bond? I thought they could only break with a broken relationship. Or fade over time. If you didn’t even know who it was, how—?”

“I had a pretty good idea of who it was,” Mark says, looking Jackson right in the eye.

Jackson stiffens beside Jaebum, sitting up straighter.

“What’re you…?” he murmurs.

“In fact,” Mark continues. “My whole coven knew. And my family… well, my parents asked the elders to  _ do _ something about it.”

“Do what?” Jaebum asks, a strange sense of dread creeping up into his throat.

“It felt like something hot just sliced through my heart,” Mark says. “It was winter when they burnt out our connection. And I remember that because it  _ felt so hot, _ I sweat through the sheets — and then it left me freezing.”

Yugyeom looks indignant, horrified. “How could they??” He asks, voice trembling.

“That day…” Jackson says, slowly. “I know that day, it was in January. It felt like the whole sky broke in two. I couldn’t get out of bed. What does that mean? Was that  _ my thread?” _ He scrambles down the length of the mattress on his hands and knees, staring into Mark’s face in shock. 

“What does that mean?” He repeats. 

Mark gulps, eyes glassy. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I swear I never even wanted to touch it. I only really knew our colors were compatible, but I knew you’d never want me to do anything magic about it. You wouldn’t want to know that sort of thing. I never imagined they’d use it against us, and I didn’t think it would matter. I didn’t want to rush into anything with you, I was so happy being best friends. But I didn’t know we’d run out of time.”

Jackson still looks confused, shaking his head.

Yoo Youngjae looks deflated, all of his boasting long evaporated.

“Why would your family ask for that?” Choi Youngjae asks. 

Mark rolls his lips together, eyes distant. “Jackson doesn’t have magic,” he says, very quietly.

Jackson lets out a sharp breath through his nostrils, and Yugyeom hisses in disappointment.

“That’s archaic,” Yoo Youngjae says. “Everybody knows now it doesn’t matter for magic potential in the bloodline. And anyway, isn’t it a huge ethical mess to do that kind of thing without Jackson’s knowledge?”

“Yeah,” says Mark, clearing his throat and turning back to Yugyeom. “It’s part of why I’m such a stickler about the rules now. And why I didn’t want to reach out beyond all of our registered information. It’s not anything personal,” he says.

“It sounds pretty damn personal to me,” Jackson says, shoulders sagging.

“Well,” Yoo Youngjae says, contemplative. “It’s not permanent, is it?”

Mark shrugs, slow and sincere. “I’m not exactly sure. If we really establish our fated threads by our actions, like we’ve been taught, it could be woven again. But I know my family’s disapproval was made clear to Jackson even before then, even before they split us.”

He pauses, reaching out to trail his fingers down Jackson’s arm. “I don’t want you to have to interact with them again. And maybe I should have been honest with you earlier, maybe I should have tried to reach out regardless. But I was so embarrassed. Humiliated. So I can’t ask for that.”

“You’ve got no reason to be embarrassed,” Jackson says. “For real. Their beef isn’t yours, and I’ve known that much all along. Bond or not.”

“Are all soulmates like… a love thing?” Choi Youngjae asks. “I know you said it’s just potential but what if it’s not someone you’re attracted to?”

“It can be totally platonic,” the other Youngjae answers. “It’s just about connections. Friendship can be just as deep.”

Mark nods, touching Jackson’s wrist gently. Jackson scoops up his hand. They smile at each other, small and without any pressure.

Jaebum’s stomach twists. So what he was feeling didn’t have to be romantic, he considers. But it  _ is. _

Isn’t it?

“Oh no,” their Youngjae says, “don’t give Jaebum hyung  _ more _ to think about. I can hear his brain shutting down like an old computer.” 

But the hotel door slams open just then, distracting Jaebum from overthinking. 

BamBam is suddenly whipping through the room, poking through people’s luggage without a word of greeting.

“Mark hyung,” he finally whines, “do you have any of those face masks we bought at the airport?”

“I do,” Mark says, prickly.

A beat passes, and BamBam shakes a backpack at him expectantly. “Well?” He asks. “Where are they?”

“In  _ my _ luggage,” Mark says. “This is Jackson and Youngjae’s room, dummy.”

BamBam rolls his eyes and stamps a foot in disappointment, like he’s been let down. “Well thanks for letting me know,” he says, tossing the backpack back in its corner and turning away.

“Nothing to say to your hyungs?” Jackson calls out, as BamBam moves towards the door. “No hello, no goodbye? I’m just wallpaper to you, now?”

“Bye bye~,” BamBam trills over his shoulder, hand on the doorknob.

“Wait!” Jaebum barks out. “How is… how’s Jinyoung doing?”

Jinyoung and BamBam are sharing a room, and it’s been obvious that Jinyoung’s leaning on BamBam the most of all the members. Maybe he feels more comfortable knowing BamBam’s not magical, or maybe he’s just tired of talking about his feelings with everyone else. Jaebum wouldn’t blame him — BamBam’s a strong choice for comfortable distraction. He would never push anyone to get too sentimental.

“He can’t stop crying,” BamBam says, voice low.

“Wait, for  _ real?” _ Jackson blurts out. 

Jaebum’s stomach is already tied up in knots by the time BamBam throws his head back and laughs. “Just a joke!” He says. “You should have seen your face, hyung. Honestly, he’s fine.”

“Fine,” Jaebum repeats, and he’s not sure why it does nothing to ease his nausea.

BamBam nods. “I’ve been taking good care of him, don’t worry,” he says, brandishing his phone. “We’ve been listening to one hell of a playlist:  _ Single & Lovin’ It.” _

He cues a song just before Youngjae pelts him with a pillow, and he cackles, starting to dance as  _ Feeling Myself _ blares out of the phone. He twerks by the foot of the bed for a few seconds, before Mark finally kicks him in the thigh and he stumbles away with a yelp.

“Nobody wants to see that bony ass,” Mark gripes.

“Aw,” says Yugyeom, laughing. “It’s okay, Bammie, you just have a long back.”

BamBam has bounced back up and is heading for the door again, unfazed. “It’s okay,” he says, pausing the music and tossing a smirk at Jaebum. “I know we can’t  _ all _ be as gifted as Jinyoung hyung.”

Jaebum can’t even bring himself to scold him, quickly lost to the melancholy reminder that he  _ does _ miss Jinyoung’s ass. 

BamBam suddenly pauses, seemingly noticing Yoo Youngjae for the first time. “What’s  _ VIXX _ doing here?” He asks, jerking a thumb at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Youngjae offers, chuckling.

BamBam raises his eyebrows and smiles blankly. “Okay?” He says, missing the gentle correction.

_ “B.A.P _ Youngjae is a witch too,” Mark says. “I invited him over to help explain fate and soulmates to Jaebum.”

“Oof,” says BamBam. “How’s that been going?”

Mark and Jackson look at each other with forlorn expressions, Yoo Youngjae lets out a long sigh, and Jaebum rubs his neck sheepishly. “Not great,” he admits.

“Well,” says BamBam, hand on back on the door handle. “Isn’t it simpler than that, anyway?”

Jaebum peeks up at him, too tired to be properly irritated. “Why?” He asks.

“I mean… do you  _ want  _ to be with Jinyoung?” BamBam asks.

_ “Yes,”  _ says Jaebum, teeth gritted.

“Then you should just  _ be _ with him,” says BamBam, shrugging. “Fuck whatever my boy got you into, and fuck whatever some witch from SM is telling you.” He gestures at Yugyeom and Yoo Youngjae, respectively.

Youngjae winces, but waves the error off graciously.

BamBam breezes out of their room an instant later, but his words linger with Jaebum for the rest of the night.  _ Just be with him, _ he thinks. Sounds easy enough. Now how does he make that happen, exactly?

//

**Jinyoung**

Jinyoung looks back on his life as existing in two major time periods.  _ Before _ Jaebum, and after. Maybe that’s unhealthy, he considers. But it’s true. That these phases coincide with puberty, with the sudden bloom of Jinyoung’s sexuality and his life’s most important career decisions, means he’s probably giving Jaebum too much credit.

But he can’t help it. 

Im Jaebum had changed his world. 

Jinyoung was used to being babied. With two sweet older sisters, and equally affectionate parents, he’d always felt precious. Always the focus of someone’s attention, even disciplined with gentleness. 

Maybe he’d been spoiled, Jinyoung wonders. But he just can’t imagine himself growing up any other way. He wasn’t a snooty little prince. But he had been cherished, and his family had been patient with him. 

All of that had changed after his admittance to JYPE.

Suddenly, he was thrust into an environment where being the youngest wasn’t a plus. Where respect was not fostered, but fought for. Anyone with an ounce of authority reveled in it. Everyone had a chip on their shoulder — they’d gone through worse, he’d heard it a million times. Back in their day, things were so much worse. So now, they felt like they had to take it out on the younger trainees as much as they were allowed.

There was a limit, of course. And while some seniors could be cold and gruff, nothing was outright torment. No one’s cruelty left physical marks.

But it was new, strange, and painful for Jinyoung still.

Jinyoung can’t blame Jaebum for struggling with him. He’d never been as harsh as the others, even when he was egged on by their seniors. 

It had been new for him too, Jinyoung knows. The murmured way Jaebum had shared, shyly, that he was an only child. He’d only experienced seniority in a school setting, never with the kind of responsibility suddenly pressed down on him being a leader.

Jinyoung had liked Jaebum immediately — it felt inevitable, like sinking into wet sand as the tide tugged you out from shore. What wasn’t there to like? Twinkling, crescent eyes, broad shoulders, and the most natural charisma Jinyoung’s ever experienced. 

There would always be something utterly effortless about Jaebum’s cool, something that sparkled beyond just the way he smiled. The initial flickering rush of affection took Jinyoung’s breath away, and then it burned deep in his gut, a little spark that would live on for years.

Jinyoung had gone on to meet handsomer men still, to hear voices more even and rich in tone. He’d been attracted to other men too, big and mean or willowy and graceful, and he’d fantasized about them, had played with some of their feelings and felt some of their bodies.

But Jaebum would stay in his heart, buried deep beyond what Jinyoung thought reality could afford.

He wasn’t allowed, it wasn’t right, and it could ruin their lives. That boundary felt real. Concrete.

In a way, it had felt safe. Jinyoung had almost felt more comfortable knowing it would go unrequited. 

Sure, it was disappointing, but it had been nice to have someone to think about, whenever he was alone. It was nice to feel the swoop in his stomach, whenever Jaebum wrapped an arm around him. It felt especially nice, a little bit naughty, to tease him about liking him in Japanese. Or to call him  _ Beom-ah _ and watch him bluster. To nearly kiss him, with overly confident lips.

He had never felt like he really  _ deserved _ Jaebum.

Jinyoung is just so used to feeling inadequate, that even with Jaebum making promises of eternity, even with his tongue down his throat and the threat of his hips rolling against him, it’s hard to take it seriously. It all still feels so hypothetical. 

So now, it’s a little hard to grasp they could really be together. That Jaebum might really like him back.

That’s strange enough as it is, but for all the coincidence to be peeled away and call it soulmates?

Jinyoung isn’t sure about that. The truth is, as long as he’s been living in a post-Jaebum world, it’s been all about Jinyoung’s own will. He’d willed himself to hide his feelings, and then he’d willed his way into GOT7. 

But was Jinyoung just been getting in destiny’s way? If he’d really given up, would they still have gotten together, after all? It doesn’t seem right, it doesn’t seem like he should get that.

He can’t wrap his head around it.

Jinyoung had been trying so hard all along, to figure out what Jaebum was thinking. How his mind and his heart had worked. So Jinyoung had read all of his books, watched the same movies. 

Gleefully, Jinyoung had once even declared that Jaebum had  _ taught him how to live. _

But had he really?

No matter what, Jinyoung had never known for sure. Had Jaebum felt the same way, reading this poem? Did Jaebum think this, about that movie? He’d felt like he was trapped on the other side of a mirror. Trying desperately to reflect whatever Jaebum put into the world, but never being seen.

Jinyoung was used to feeling needy.  _ “How long will we be together?”  _ He’d asked, shamelessly. 

Might as well have been whining:  _ do you love me, hyung? _

Did Jaebum want to be with him because he’d fallen in love? Or did he feel like he was obligated, because of what the spell had revealed? 

Jinyoung couldn’t know, because Jaebum hadn’t revealed it. He’s still a mystery to Jinyoung, still behind the glass in his mind.

Jaebum texts him late that night.

Jaebum 2:47am   
_ can i see you tomorrow? _

Jinyoung hesitates for a moment, shifting in his bed.

Jinyoung 2:49am

_ I won’t be home until after 1, probably _

_ if you still want to come over, then. _

Jaebum 2:49am

_ that’s fine! _

_ i’ll text again to make sure _

Jinyoung stares at his screen until it goes black, sleep still out of reach.

//

Jinyoung has an awards show appearance the next day, shoehorned between their shows in Korea and the next leg of their tour. As always, their promotional schedule is all over the place. Somehow, everything always comes in waves for them.

Jinyoung’s not there for his role in  _ He is Psychometric, _ but the show’s director was nominated for another project, and he’s gone to show support.

It’s always a little foreign to appear on a red carpet without six other boys, to pose and smile and answer questions just about himself. But he enjoys a change in pace, even though the ceremony creeps by extra slow without their running commentary.

It’s the afterparty he’s a little more worried about — parties aren’t exactly his strong suite, but he knows he’ll have to try his best, exchanging a lot of polite greetings and listening to dry anecdotes.

This always feels awkward, going through the motions more than usual for him.

Another awkward point: Gong Yoo is also in attendance.

Jinyoung avoids him pretty easily, however. 

Yoo’s under more intense scrutiny than usual, what with a lovely new girlfriend on his arm and flashing lights all around them. It would be hard to speak to him even if Jinyoung wanted to, and he certainly doesn’t. 

Still, Jinyoung’s aware of the slivers of opportunity where he might’ve caught his eye. Might have brushed softly behind his shoulder in the pursuit of a passing tray of champagne.

Instead, Jinyoung keeps his eyes moving quickly, nearly hugging the wall as he creeps around the perimeter of the room to greet various actors and directors he’s familiar with.

He takes a moment to stand in a corner on his own, gulping down a mouthful of champagne, hoping the buzz will make this night go a little faster.

“Park Jinyoung,” a voice interrupts from behind him, and he nearly chokes in recognition. 

“Sunbaenim,” Jinyoung whispers in surprise, turning around and ducking low into a bow. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“So I’ve already gone out of style?” Lee Minho smirks. “It hasn’t been  _ that _ long.”

Jinyoung can’t help the rush of nervous affection that tickles at his ribcage now, a flood of bittersweet memories lapping around them. 

“Are you doing well?” Jinyoung asks. “I was just reading about your new drama. The fantasy elements sound so fascinating.”

“Will you watch?” Minho asks. His gaze flutters between Jinyoung’s eyes and lips.

“Of course,” says Jinyoung, sincerely. 

Minho nods, looking satisfied with his promise for the moment. “I can’t stay long,” he says, suddenly.

Jinyoung tilts his head in question.

“There’s someone waiting for me,” Minho says, voice dipping low.

Jinyoung is caught off guard, and he’s suddenly unsure how he ought to respond. “Ah,” he says, offering a smile. “That’s lovely to look forward to.”

Minho doesn’t return the smile, eyes intense as they trace him up and down. “But I would let them wait,” he says. “I’d leave them waiting, if you wanted to get out of here.”

Jinyoung’s breath goes short, and once again he’s rendered speechless. It’s been a long time since Minho’s propositioned him, but it’s not unfamiliar. Still, this is very forward, a little reckless. Photographers are milling freely through the crowd, and if any industry people overhear them, it could be disastrous.

“I—,” and Jinyoung falters. He imagines, for just a moment, what it would be like to rekindle this. What it would be like, to be a shadowy rendezvous, a secret contact in someone’s phone once again.

It’s familiar, at least. But it just isn’t worth it.

“I have someone too,” he says, finally. Honestly. “And I can’t miss them.”

Minho nods, looking faintly disappointed but resigned. He claps Jinyoung on the shoulder and offers him a little smirk. “Well,” he says. “Good luck with that. And don’t forget, if you need a reference, I’m all yours.”

Jinyoung bows, thanking him genuinely, and then watches him leave with a shaky sigh.

Minho had been a similar story to Yoo. He’d been Jinyoung’s first really high-profile, celebrity sugar daddy. Their managers knew each other and after some initial interested comments from Minho, they’d made contact. And they’d hit it off.

When news of Minho and Suzy dating had leaked, it had gotten a little complicated. Minho hadn’t wanted to break it off with Jinyoung, but Jinyoung ended it anyways. He’d never tried to concern himself with whether or not someone’s public relationship was real or for show, before then. Being closeted was common enough, and he couldn’t judge someone for that. But he knew Suzy, and he wouldn’t hurt her intentionally.

It was too risky — and most importantly, Jinyoung didn’t return Minho’s interest. He just hadn’t been worth it.

Minho had been one of his most important lessons to learn. It taught Jinyoung how his boundaries needed to stay strictly in place. It was best for himself, the other man, and for everyone around them.

But it also taught Jinyoung that just being wanted wasn’t  _ enough  _ for him. He wanted a real connection, something deeper than lust, or attention. He wasn’t shy about flirtation, and playing around. But he would never make the leap to serious commitment unless he felt really strongly about someone.

On his ride home, all of his thoughts churn and twist about like a stormy ocean. 

The thing is, for a long time, the person he’s felt strongest about was Jaebum. And so while a lot of this feels familiar, and they fit into each other easily, naturally, it somehow feels even more terrifying than any of his sugar relationships. It feels so much more important, so much more demanding of his attention.

Because all of a sudden, it seems  _ worth it. _

Because if he weighs it against his career, against his fans, against the security of his future and his reputation with the public — Jaebum’s love is worth losing it all.

Jinyoung’s just  _ scared. _

He knows he owes Jaebum an apology, for rushing out and making things go strange once again. But he isn’t sure what to say after that. How could he explain that he didn’t think this would happen for him? How could he explain he thought Jaebum deserved someone better?

Once he’s finally settled back home and slipped out of his tux, he surveys his living room with his lip caught between his teeth. 

What could ease the strange conversation they were about to embark on? Maybe a gift? 

But he doesn’t have time to shop, as Jaebum’s likely already on his way.

Jinyoung’s eyes drift over the framed art on his wall, a cacophonous mix of inspiration and his own photos. _ That _ would be nice, he suddenly considers, and then he’s rushing off to his office to dig through his arsenal of cameras. 

And  _ there’s _ a lovely one, the Leica Minilux, a favorite of his. Not mint condition, after he’s let it bounce around in his luggage over more than a few tours. But it’s served him well, worn down a bit with his grip and easy to use.

He finds a small box to tuck it away in and sets it on his kitchen counter, decided. He needs to be honest; he’s loved Jaebum for years. 

He just doesn’t know if he’s ready for Jaebum to love him back.

//

**Jaebum**

The door opens quickly, mid-way through his first buzz.

Jinyoung just steps aside, not saying anything.

“Hey,” Jaebum offers, quietly. His cheeks feel hot, and he ducks his eyes away, suddenly feeling shy.

Jinyoung’s still got his hair and makeup done from the award show. So while his outfit is casual, his skin still looks dewy and flawless, a little unreal. Actor Park is a lot to take in, at the moment.

Jinyoung leads him into the kitchen, and Jaebum’s reminded of when he’d last watched him make an espresso here, in Jaebum’s body. And then he’d put on a movie and sucked him off. 

It’s a strange memory to be left with, a strange sensation to realize that while the physical confusion is behind them, the sexual tension between them is still palpable.

They’ve always had this; a searing hot potential that makes all of their interactions a little fumbling. Even in the softest moments, there’s a push and a pull as they try to make each other comfortable without getting too close.

“I brought something,” Jaebum says, lifting a little gift bag for Jinyoung to see. 

Jinyoung looks amused, and in an instant Jaebum sees why. Jinyoung slides a little box across the counter in return. Jaebum gives him the bag and rattles the box in question.

Jinyoung looks at him patiently, bag clutched to his chest, so Jaebum opens his first. He’s just seen the gleam of a lens, a titanium case and a little red logo, as he lets out a soft noise of surprise.

“Wait, this is—,” he murmurs.

“Do you already have one?” Jinyoung asks, plucking the tissue out of his bag. “I have trouble keeping track of which one of us has which…” And he pulls out Jaebum’s Ricoh GR1.

“Yah,” Jinyoung says, face flushed and face frozen. “Why would you give me this…?”

Jaebum gapes at him in shock, waving his Leica back at him. “Why would you give me  _ yours??” _ He asks. “Isn’t it one of your favorites?”

“Of course,” Jinyoung murmurs, turning the camera over in his hands like it’s the most delicate thing in the world. “You broke the first one you had, didn’t you? The black one. Did you not like this one as much?”

“I love it,” Jaebum blurts out, and Jinyoung’s hands freeze. He’s slow to look up, eyes wavering when they meet Jaebum’s.

“It’s hard to say what I’ve been thinking,” Jinyoung finally says, putting the Ricoh aside. “And I’m sorry I ran out of there like that. But it’s a lot to try to understand. And since I’ve never even had a real boyfriend… I guess it’s not easy for me to figure everything out.”

Jaebum nods, words on the tip of his tongue but unsure how much to explain.

“Hyung… about soulmates,” Jinyoung starts.

“This isn’t a break-up,” Jaebum cuts him off. “You aren’t giving me this to soften the blow, are you?”

Jinyoung looks caught off guard, and he hesitates.

Jaebum’s heart sinks. “Wait,” he says. “Please just… give me a minute.”

Jinyoung presses his lips together and nods, willing to listen.

“I’ve been talking more with Mark, Yugyeom, and Youngjae,” Jaebum continues. “Yoo Youngjae, that is… he’s also a witch. I know, I know. The thing is, it’s not… they said it’s not like destiny is carved out of stone or something. It doesn’t control us. It’s not fate that makes our connection, it’s us. And that makes it fate.”

“We grew, together. And we’ve made our future, together.”

Jinyoung looks taken aback, like his thought process has been derailed. “I… I don’t know what that  _ means,” _ he says.

“I want to be with you,” Jaebum says. “And I don’t really know what that all means either, but it doesn’t matter. Because I  _ want _ you to be my soulmate. I want you to be my other half — and not because we’re broken in two, and nobody else will fit. But because I want to share everything with you.”

Jinyoung’s eyes are downcast, still at a loss for words. How can Jaebum make him understand?

“I love you,” Jaebum says, breath short. As he’s just realized — that’s what Jinyoung really needs to hear. “And I want you. I want to take care of you, forever.”

It’s been a given, for Jaebum, for a while now. He was willing to date him, kiss him, bend his own rules about relationships and reveal more of his own self, because of that. Because it was simple, when he thought of it like love.

“I wasn’t breaking up with you,” Jinyoung blurts out, cheeks flushed. 

“Okay,” says Jaebum, still nervous. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” Jinyoung whispers. His eyes are dark, glistening wet and sparkling under his kitchen’s hanging lights. “You’ve always had me,” he says. “But I’m scared, because I don’t want anything to go wrong. I just never thought it could go —  _ right.” _

Jaebum’s heart feels like it’s bursting, like he’s overflowing with a flood of warmth and affection. The gentle tugging energy around them feels like it flows through him now, like it propels him into motion.

The counter between them suddenly feel a mile too long, and Jaebum sweeps around to the other side, scooping up Jinyoung’s elbow so he can pull him in close, so he can press kisses down his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. 

“Is this real?” Jinyoung whispers, lips brushing against Jaebum’s as he turns to face him, hooking an elbow around his neck.

Jaebum kisses him then, gentle and slow, savoring the way his lips pillow against his own. Jinyoung delicately licks his way into his mouth in response, angling his head so they can slip their tongues against one other, already too warm and wanting.

They pull apart with a wet, quiet sound, and Jinyoung’s eyes are left fluttering, lips parted and cheeks flushed like he’s intoxicated.

“We’ll  _ make _ it real,” Jaebum says. 

Jinyoung makes a quiet noise of pleading, and Jaebum kisses him again. He wraps himself around him, pressing forward, hips rocking into his with intent, and Jinyoung bumps back into the kitchen island. 

Jinyoung grunts against Jaebum’s lips, and it ignites something under his ribs. He reaches down and digs his fingers into the flesh of Jinyoung’s thighs, yanking his legs apart and hoisting him up onto the counter. He’d felt how sensitive Jinyoung was there when he’d done it to him, and he exploits it now. Jinyoung lets out another little noise, hands slipping against the granite with the movement and sending a little succulent planter skidding out of the way. 

Jinyoung turns to see if it falls, but Jaebum turns his chin back toward him, relentless as he chases after his kiss. He’s holding him close by the back of a knee, savoring every sigh and sound and the scent of his skin. Something inside him is soaring.

Jaebum slips his tongue alongside Jinyoung’s again, slick and insistent until he’s panting, mouth wide open against his. Then Jaebum trails wet, open kisses down over his chin, lapping around the jut of his Adam’s apple and biting down into the tensed muscle at his neck. Jinyoung whimpers and slaps at his back in protest, wriggling as Jaebum sucks hard at the hot skin there. 

“W-wait!” He gasps. “Don’t, don’t—!” But Jaebum’s already drawing away from the beginning of a mark, skin flushed and prickling with broken capillaries. It’ll be hard to cover up. Jinyoung whines in disapproval, but Jaebum ducks back up to kiss him quiet, switching his grip to Jinyoung’s hips so he can yank him farther forward on the counter.

Then he’s grinding into him, hips thrusting up to meet him at his core, messy and out of rhythm.

Jinyoung gasps and chokes out a giggle, scooting back as if he’s gone ticklish. But then Jaebum realizes he’s trying to realign them — trying to get his cock against Jaebum’s thigh, looping one of his legs up around his waist and rolling with him.

It’s uncoordinated, and Jaebum’s reminded of high school, of fumbling firsts and an over-eager, teenaged libido that didn’t always color within the lines. 

Now, humping up against Jinyoung on a kitchen counter, he realizes he still has a lot of  _ firsts _ left. 

“H-hyung,” Jinyoung gasps, arching his back so he can get more pressure where he needs it. 

Jaebum growls as he grinds into him, nails dug into his waist now, and he’s so hot and hard and somehow they fit this way, just for the moment. Jaebum’s cock is cradled against Jinyoung’s hipbones and Jinyoung throbs against his thigh.

Jaebum’s abandoned all pretense of romance, of soft kisses and promises. He just thrusts hard into Jinyoung, a groan rumbling in his chest as he chases the friction, scrambling for the rough, raw edge of pleasure. 

Jinyoung grunts along with each roll of their hips, rutting back against him, hand slipping off his counter again and knocking off another little piece of curio.

“Clutter,” Jaebum teases him, through his teeth.

Jinyoung glares back up at him, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck instead and yanking himself upright. Then he’s kissing Jaebum, and digging his heel into the small of his back, pressing them together harder than before and dragging his hips pointedly to get him off. Jaebum’s mind nearly short-circuits, and then before he can squeeze his eyes shut he’s gone, coming in his pants as Jinyoung grinds it out of him.

It incapacitates Jaebum longer than he expects, and Jinyoung’s rumbling a chuckle into his throat as Jaebum’s last few twitches fade away.

“Fuck,” Jaebum breathes, and then Jinyoung leans back and looks him in the eye as he switches up his angle and fucks himself against the ridge of his hipbone.

Then Jaebum stares, captivated, as Jinyoung’s lips fall apart, eyes wide and glittering as he finishes a moment later.

Finally their bodies still, Jinyoung slumping back across his kitchen counter with his arms apart, and they both gasp for air, lungs burning.

The ridiculousness of the situation washes over them slowly, and Jaebum grows shy, embarrassed at the mess in his jeans as he takes a step back. The kitchen lights are too bright, the wet spot in Jinyoung’s sweats clearly on display as he leans back up on his elbows and counts out slower, relaxing breaths. 

“Okay,” says Jinyoung, weakly. “I guess we’ll give it a shot.”

And Jaebum chokes out a laugh, exhilarated and terrified and so grateful to be back in Jinyoung’s home, to be able to call him his.

//

Despite their messy, eager reunion, they're still taking things slow a week later. 

Jaebum isn’t sure why — it’s out of character for him, and he’s already crossed so many lines with Jinyoung. He’d let Jinyoung take the lead in a lot of ways, not least of all when he’d fucked Jaebum in his studio. 

But now that they’re together, Jinyoung’s softened a bit. He’s still a tease, assertive when he wants to be, but it seems like he’s still a little shy around Jaebum.

Jaebum struggles to understand it, how someone who’s known him and wanted him for ten years could possibly still be shy. How someone who’s been inside of him could be too nervous to proposition him for what he wants in return.

It’s bizarre, watching him on stage as they set out on the international leg of their tour. Because that’s where Jinyoung seems to work out some of his sexual frustrations. That’s where Jaebum knows, it’s not just for the fans. 

Jinyoung wants him. It’s in his eyes all the time, burning bright even from across a stadium stage.

During an encore, the members encourage each other to take turns doing a sexy dance, and Jinyoung volunteers to go first.

Of course, Jaebum thinks, watching him strut out in front of the others.

Jinyoung knows what he’s doing. He winds his waist around in a slow circle, cocks his hips back a bit and then tops it all off with a playful slap.

Jaebum pointedly tries to avoid seeing his asscheek jiggle, looking away and forcing a laugh as Yugyeom and BamBam cheer him on. He tries not to think about what he’d like to do with that cheek, tries not to remember how it felt to have each one gripped in his hands, tugged apart so he could devour Jinyoung. 

But he catches his own expression on the big screen a second later, tongue caught between his teeth and knuckles white where he chokes his fingers up high on his microphone. He wonders if the fans will notice, if they’ll tease him about it later with replays on Instagram.

That’s one of the strangest things about all of this happening with a member.

He knows fans enjoy skinship and pairing the members up. Sometimes the boys play a bit of chicken with each other, trying to heighten the reaction from their audience. But now, actually being involved with Jinyoung casts it all in a different light.

Suddenly, Jaebum feels jealous when Jackson and Mark cozy up to Jinyoung — all the time. Suddenly, the thought of playing the Pepero game with him on a radio show sounds like a tortuous exercise in self-control, rather than just a silly game. 

Suddenly, this is  _ real. _

And he’s just starting to realize this must have been how Jinyoung’s been feeling, for much longer than these few weeks. 

So maybe, Jaebum shouldn’t be so hesitant. They can take it slow in other ways, he thinks, as he watches Jinyoung prance down the other end of the stage. He’s flushed pink, looking a cross between embarrassed and exhilarated, and Yugyeom gives chase, whipping water after him.

Jinyoung’s laughing, his eyes creasing into his cheeks and water sparkling all around him. It reminds Jaebum that he knows this person. Inside and out. 

“Jaebum hyung is up next~!” BamBam screeches into the mic, and then all of the attention is on him, spotlights suddenly feeling hot as the same R&B track cues up.

So Jaebum lets himself go, hands dragging down his chest and hips swiveling wildly. The crowd eats it up, and when Jaebum comes back down to earth, he catches Jinyoung’s eye.

He’s angled himself behind Youngjae’s shoulder, holding the back of his hand against his lips and smiling like he’s only mildly amused. But his eyes are burning, and his smile races away as the lights dip down, and Jaebum keeps eye contact for as long as he dares.

When the show has finally ended, and they step off stage for the last time that night, Jaebum follows closely behind Jinyoung, eyes tracing down the width of his shoulders to where his body tapers into a pretty little waist.

Melancholy, he remembers how hard he’d tried to keep Jinyoung out of his thoughts for all these years. How much he’d tried to avoid looking at his body, his hands, even just his twinkling eyes. But now, he’s ready to focus on Jinyoung. He’s ready to give him the attention he deserves.

“Yah,” Jaebum rumbles as they step into the dressing area. He grasps Jinyoung by the wrist, pivots him back around so he can look him in the eye.

But Jinyoung’s looking at his lips, already, wetting his own with a slow swipe of his pink tongue.

Jaebum’s breath trembles, hitches before he can squeak out what he’d meant to say. He clears his throat then, cheeks pink with excitement. “You’ve been practicing your twerking,” he murmurs. Because he’d meant to tease. He’d meant to be the one in charge of this moment.

But Jinyoung just smiles, slow and sly. He shifts his weight away, hips switching subtly. “Maybe,” he purrs.

“Can you two…  _ not?” _ Youngjae blurts out, waving a hand between them.

“Literally just give us like, ten minutes,” Mark echoes beside him. “Just keep it in your pants for ten more minutes. For us.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes and slips his wrist out of Jaebum’s grip, wandering off to the changing booth in the corner. “Nobody was getting out of their pants,” he assures them, flicking the curtain shut behind him. 

Yugyeom pauses in the midst of changing, slacks down around his knees. “We’re not?” He asks, not having followed the conversation.

“Oh hey,” BamBam says, suddenly. He points at Yugyeom’s underwear. “I’ve been meaning to ask: is faerie dick any different?”

“You’ve been  _ meaning to ask??” _ Youngjae sputters in disbelief, head popping through his hoodie. “Why are you always asking about dicks? Isn’t this bordering on obsession?”

BamBam clucks in disapproval, puffing his chest out. “Of course not,” he says. “Everybody was thinking it, I’m just brave enough to ask. I’m doing it for the people.”

Jaebum rolls his eyes as he ducks into a beanie. But nobody voices any disagreement, and even Youngjae turns to Yugyeom expectantly.

“I don’t know,” Yugyeom mumbles, wriggling into his jeans hastily. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

It takes a moment for this to fully sink in, and then they all go quiet and still.

Jinyoung yanks the dressing room curtain aside, and he stands frozen there, face gone pale. “You’ve never  _ what?” _ He says.

“Say  _ psych _ right now,” demands BamBam.

“That can’t be right,” Jackson stammers. “You’re just a  _ child?” _

Yugyeom starts to protest, but the group erupts into hysterics, suddenly all shouting over one another to ask another embarrassing question or make another playful jab.

Amidst the chaos, Jaebum feels grateful that Yugyeom’s inadvertently taken the heat off of him and Jinyoung. And then he feels his presence beside him again, the warm press of a shoulder against his own.

Discreetly, Jinyoung presses a keycard into Jaebum’s palm, behind their backs. “I’ll tell manager hyung he can’t come back until 3,” he says.

“That’s not fair,” Jaebum says, quickly slipping one of his cards into Jinyoung’s back pocket. He lets his palm linger there a little longer, savoring the warm curve of his ass and squeezing it slightly. Jinyoung steps away from him with warning, glittering eyes. 

Jaebum steps back into his space, but keeps his hands to himself this time. “Tell him to stay in mine. I’ll say I forgot my humidifier so you offered to share yours. For my throat.”

Jinyoung’s eyes dart down to his throat as he mentions it, smirking. “Alright. We’ll take good care of your throat Beom-ah,” he says. “No breathplay on tour.”

Jaebum nearly chokes on his saliva, thinking about the inverse implication — so  _ off-tour? _ He wonders.

“See you later,” Jinyoung says, and heads out.

//

And it isn’t until much later that they finally make it back to their hotel floor, after a long dinner and drinks with the others.

They’ve got to let everything wind down and don’t want to bother the others’ typical tour routine. But when Jaebum catches Jinyoung yawning first as usual, he wonders if he’ll still be up for very much.

Jaebum shouldn’t have doubted him.

When he finally makes it into Jinyoung’s hotel room, he finds Jinyoung’s ready for him. Or at least — he’s been preparing.

Jinyoung wears nothing but a thin undershirt, knees splayed apart on the bed as he thrusts two fingers into himself. Lube glistens at his entrance and down over his knuckles, pink and wet and obscene.

Jaebum swallows down the nerves in his throat and starts to scramble out of his jacket.

“Jesus, Jinyoung,” he murmurs, face catching in his t-shirt, “what if I’d been your manager, coming back for something?”

“It wouldn’t ha—ppen,” Jinyoung pants. “We’re  _ destiny, _ remember?”

Jaebum manages to sniff out a laugh as he finally gets his pants off, and then he’s clambering up onto the bed toward Jinyoung, the same hunger he’d felt onstage reappearing under his ribs. 

Jinyoung slips his fingers out then, and he’s already rolling back, knees up like he expects Jaebum to thrust into him right away.

But Jaebum presses his chest farther back with one hand and hooks his other arm around one of Jinyoung’s knees, tugging his bottom up and towards him. 

“H-hyungh,” Jinyoung murmurs in surprise, as Jaebum’s lips crest over the tip of his cock, and then smear down the side of it. “You don’t have to…”

“Let hyung take care of you,” Jaebum says, voice deep as his lips bump back up along the length of his cock. Then he opens up and takes him whole, swallowing down around Jinyoung so he can feel the hot twitch of his throat.

He sucks hard, bobbing his head up and down at an intense pace, and Jinyoung writhes beneath him.

“Ah,” Jinyoung’s hips jerk. “Hyung, please. I can’t — I won’t last like this.”

Jaebum knows that to be true — Jinyoung’s sensitive to this, and he doesn’t want to get him overstimulated before he’s even inside him.

But Jinyoung  _ tastes _ good, feels good in his mouth. And he’s wanted to put his mouth on him since the concert, wanted to smell the sweat on his skin as he burned up under his touch. It’s got him hard and aching now too, drunk on the power he holds over Jinyoung.

So he keeps up his rhythm, until Jinyoung’s hips are swinging up off the bed and he’s keening, begging for him to stop.

Jaebum slides his lips, slow and deliberate, off his cock with a pop. 

“Don’t  _ tease,” _ Jinyoung whines, and Jaebum stretches up to kiss him. It’s also slow, gentle and exploratory. It’s unfair to draw things out, but Jaebum loves seeing Jinyoung beg, loves the push of desperation in his voice.

“How do you want it?” He whispers, drawing back in the next moment. He finds the discarded bottle of lube and starts to slicks himself up. He’s throbbing already, having fantasized about this for weeks now. Maybe longer, if he’s honest with himself about wet dreams and some blurry, hesitant imaginations of the past.

Jinyoung rolls onto his knees, presenting ass up for Jaebum. He even sways back against his dick, so Jaebum can feel the wet kiss of lube, the throbbing heat of himself and his desire. “I want it hard,” Jinyoung says. “I can take it.”

Jaebum can’t help the laugh that punches out of him, even as Jinyoung frowns back at him disapprovingly. Cute. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, “we’ll see about that.”

He guides his cock forward then, smearing down Jinyoung’s crack and swirling the head around his hole, but he doesn’t move any further until Jinyoung outright groans, leaning his head down to cradle in his arms. Needy.

So Jaebum finally runs his thumb across his entrance just once more, making sure there’s still enough lubricant, and then rolls his hips forward, slowly.

It’s indescribable — the hot pressure that’s immediately drawing him in, and Jinyoung’s wavering hum of encouragement. He’s pressing back toward Jaebum’s hips, as if to try and coax him in faster, deeper. But Jaebum insists on taking his time, waiting for Jinyoung to relax around him fully.

“You’re so slow,” Jinyoung complains, but Jaebum snaps his hips just at that moment, fully sheathing inside him, and Jinyoung warbles out a moan.

“You want it hard,” Jaebum says. “And we’ll get there. But I — I’m not going to jackhammer into you for five minutes and call it good, Jinyoungie.”

Jinyoung is breathing hard through his nose now, up on his elbows and head hung low. “Is that supposed to be a dig?” He asks. “You weren’t complaining about jackhammering in your studio.”

Jaebum swears under his breath, pulling back out of him slowly. The drag of his insides against his length is intoxicating, each flex of muscle wholly new and overwhelming.

“You feel so good,” he whispers. “So good. Just let me  _ feel _ you.”

Jinyoung groans with him when he fucks forward again. 

And then Jaebum starts to build a rhythm in earnest. It’s slow, and deep, but it’s forceful, skin slapping with each buck of his hips. And Jinyoung whines, struggling to keep his back arched, fingers digging into the duvet to steady himself.

It’s unreal to Jaebum, how he could feel this way, how he could  _ fit _ this way, with a boy he’s known for so long. 

“God,” he says, thrusting a little bit faster now, the slide of the lube hot and slick, Jinyoung pressing tight all around him. He’s drunk on the feeling, eyes screwed tight as his balls slap against Jinyoung’s bottom, squelching with each thrust in and out.

“Come on,” Jinyoung growls. “Give it to me.”

Jaebum brings his hand down hard on Jinyoung’s bottom instead, and the vibration from his slap sends shivers down his own spine. He bites back another curse, but Jinyoung lets out an equally indecipherable noise in reaction. Satisfied with this, Jaebum spanks him again, watching his skin blossom red and pink under his palm.

Jinyoung bucks away from it, scrambling in the sheets. But Jaebum keeps him close, fingers curled tight into his waist and yanking him backwards.

“You wanted hard,” Jaebum hisses.

Jinyoung whines, and Jaebum can see him mouthing into the duvet beneath them, teeth biting into the down. It's enough to send a wave of dizzy arousal through him, fingers tingling with the sudden realization.

“Be a good boy,” he whispers, and Jinyoung peeks back at him, cheek red where he’s squished it into his pillow.

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything, just nods, face flushed and clammy already.

And Jaebum brings his hand down again, this time lower down on his thigh.

He feels it again, in his own dick as he slides forward, and in Jinyoung’s tense, inner reaction around him. Tight, tighter than before as he squeezes in anticipation, and then a pulse of release as he relaxes again.

Jaebum picks up the pace again now, the throbbing friction pressing him onward, the pulse of Jinyoung’s body a staccato rhythm he wants to follow. He’s plowing into him now, and Jinyoung’s gulping in air and whimpering with each thrust.

“Hyung,” he’s squirming in the sheets. “Hyung, hyung, hyung,” he says with each buck of their hips.

Jaebum draws back farther now, nearly slipping all the way out, and then he slams back into him in one swift motion.

Jinyoung  _ yells, _ and Jaebum’s hips slip as he doubles over, nuzzling at his neck. “Are you okay?” He whispers, nerves short-circuiting.

“Of course I’m okay,” Jinyoung grits out, blearily. “D-don’t stop, fuck!”

“If you insist,” Jaebum whispers, and then he’s slamming back into him again, keeping himself curled close and breathing sharply alongside Jinyoung’s face, lips nudging up under his ear.

Jinyoung makes another plaintive noise, and he manages to untangle one of his hands from the mess of sheets to reach back and curl gently, coaxingly around Jaebum’s cheek. He lightly presses his mouth to Jaebum’s, twisted around tight in a blind search for Jaebum's kiss.

Jaebum takes it as a sign, this position is good for a good fuck. But he wants to make love to Jinyoung. Wants to see his face, and kiss his lips.

So he slides back out, entirely, head catching on Jinyoung’s rim for just a moment and then dropping away, the duvet suddenly wet from where his cock hangs heavy, dripping and pulsing with anticipation.

Jinyoung’s whining again, already, begging again for him to put it back in.

But Jaebum rolls him over without any fuss, one strong hand on his knee. And then he fucks back into him, in a quick burst of shallow thrusts that shove him farther up the mattress, head cranked up into a pillow so his hair’s a mess, calves flung up over Jaebum’s hips.

“Hyunghh—!” Jinyoung moans, and Jaebum thinks about how jealous he’d been the first time he’d heard it said said so shamelessly, and it’s even worse now. On the phone with his sugar daddy, Jinyoung had still sounded sweet. Maybe coy. He’d left something to the imagination, at least.

But now, he sounds bare, unedited and carnal — without any pretense of some sticky-sweet arrangement.

He’s raw, fucked out and wanting more. Needing more. And Jaebum is going to give it to him.

It takes him a little bit to get back up to the pace he was at before. But it’s easy to get carried away, the fluid friction between them tugging him closer and closer to bliss.

And beneath him, eyes wide open and full of admiration, Jinyoung writhes along with him. His heels dig into Jaebum’s ass, keeping him close even though he’d protested the change in position.

“Hyung,” he whispers, this time softer, exquisitely fond.

He doesn’t complain as Jaebum slows down further still, savoring the sensation of being inside him, of Jinyoung’s hand clutched so firm around his neck and words spoken so tenderly.

And even though Jaebum had felt the literal magic between them before, even though he’d known the added ecstasy of their souls’ bond, of feeling the spell unfurl around them, this still feels unbelievable. Like he’s on another plane of existence, utterly euphoric.

“Feels good,” he can only repeat, hazy.

He hadn’t been sure it would continue to feel so special. Not that he had any doubts about Jinyoung’s body, about the searing flickers of lust between them. Sex could be good, obviously, and Jaebum was no stranger to it. To the feeling of orgasm, to slipping over the white-hot brink of pleasure and letting himself spiral out of control.

But with Jinyoung, it still feels different. Not only is Jaebum trying to get off, hips snapping at a feverish rate, but he wants Jinyoung to feel better than him. He wants Jinyoung to  _ feel _ the way Jaebum feels  _ about _ him.

Ironically, even when they’d swapped bodies, that wasn’t something they could make each other understand. It’s still something that needed to be expressed, something left unsaid for too long.

Jinyoung, eyes curled up in an attempt to hold back the shimmers of tears, looks overwhelmed.

“Feels good,” he echoes back. “Feels like I’m going crazy, hyung,” he says.

Jaebum chokes a bit on his own spit, thrusting upward to make sure and drag against every ridge inside him, to spear more specifically up towards his most sensitive spot. 

And Jinyoung sputters, one leg twitching out and the other curling tighter around Jaebum’s hips.

“Hyung,” he's crying. “Hyung, kiss me.”

“I’ve got you,” Jaebum says, leaning in and fitting their mouths together.

Jinyoung sighs against his lips, cock twitching between them, flicking gently against Jaebum’s belly. They’re both sticky with his spunk now, and he whines louder. But Jaebum continues to fuck into him, kissing through his noises and moving slow and deep.

Jinyoung’s oversensitive, and Jaebum half-expects him to beg him to stop. But instead, Jinyoung arches his back with another particularly deep thrust, writhing in an effort to break Jaebum off as well.

Jaebum’s near his limit, glowing with sweat and lost in sensation, gazing down at Jinyoung in mute wonder. 

After all — he’d hoped, against the odds, maybe he’d be an exception. Someone who found a best friend, a soulmate, a partner for life, without having to look for one.

And somehow, against the odds, it had happened. Somehow, Jinyoung had found  _ him.  _ And more overwhelming, Jinyoung had stayed by his side, even when he had pushed him away, even when he’d thought there was no hope of reciprocation.

Jaebum comes, hips stalling as he digs his nails into Jinyoung’s hips, eyes screwed shut and ducking his head into his neck, mouthing nonsense against his collarbone. It passes quickly, Jinyoung still squeezing around him until his last spurt, the tight sheath of lube and jism quickly too hot and overwhelming around him.

Jinyoung keeps his arms looped over his shoulders as Jaebum slides out of him, and holds him close, dusting airy kisses along his browbone.

“Thank you,” Jaebum whispers, a good while later. Jinyoung’s kicked the sticky duvet away and still cradles Jaebum’s head on his chest. His fingers idly card through Jaebum’s sweaty bangs, and their breath slowly evens out together.

“For this?” Jinyoung asks, and Jaebum can hear the soft upturn of his lips, the smirk he’s surely slipping into.

Jaebum sniffs out a quiet laugh against his skin, but shakes his head and pulls back, looking for his eyes.

He finds them, just where he needs them to be, and it feels fitting. Jinyoung’s always been ready, waiting for his gaze.

“Thank you for staying by my side,” Jaebum says.

Jinyoung’s eyes curve with his smile, wrinkling up at the corners. “Don’t be such a baby about it,” he says, immediately teasing him with his own words from so long ago. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jaebum springs up and reaches around to spank him, yanking him over by his hips, through peals of their laughter. 

“Hyung, no!” Jinyoung somehow whines even through his giggles, and Jaebum brings his hand down once, twice for good measure. Jinyoung whimpers softly into his pillow, and Jaebum draws away, surveying his flushed bottom with some satisfaction.

Jinyoung’s eyes glitter from where he’s half-hidden his face in the pillow, and Jaebum drinks in the sight of him — pink, tousled and coy, sweaty from sex. And all his.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says, after a moment. “For treating you like that. I didn’t know who I was, back then.”

“I didn’t either,” Jinyoung says, propping his head up on an elbow. “You were perfect to me, then. You were everything I wanted to be, hyung.”

“I was far from perfect,” Jaebum says, reaching out and softly stroking over the pert curve of his ass. He makes sure to be light with his fingertips over the flourish of a bruise. He knows it’s not serious, but at the moment it’s an uncomfortable reminder of how he’s treated Jinyoung in the past. Of the ways they’ve left marks on each other, unknowingly, trying so hard to avoid each other’s discomfort. 

“But you made me better,” Jaebum says. “So thank you.”

Jinyoung rolls back over with a slight wince. “Do you… miss swapping bodies?” He asks.

Jaebum raises his eyebrows, laying back down alongside him as he considers it. “No,” he says. “I’m happiest in my own skin. Why, did you like being me more?”

“No,” says Jinyoung, with a small smile. “I like who I am now, too. But I liked being able to share feelings — not just during sex, but the fact that we switched when we were startled, or sad. It was nice not having to bear everything on my own, even if it was sort of forced.”

Jaebum reaches out, cupping a hand around his jaw. “You don’t have to do anything alone,” he says. “I’m here for you, you know that.”

Jinyoung nods, and he presses a soft kiss to Jaebum’s thumb, where it’s cradled under the pout of his lips. “But you have to tell me, too,” he says. “I tried so hard to know you, before. But there was still so much left. Please let me in too, hyung.”

Jaebum’s breath hitches in wonder, and he nods, fingertip still tingling where Jinyoung’s kissed him. 

“We’ll teach ourselves to share,” he says. “More than just our bodies.”

He’s reminded of the magic scene he’d only caught a peek of before — Yugyeom’s drawings of their glowing auras suspended in air, overlapping to become one lovely, orange whole. It won’t be that simple, he knows. But he’s excited to work at it, to see what they become together.

//

They’re setting off on another leg of their tour the very next day.

Navigating through a sea of fans and photographers waiting outside an airport, it’s easy to feel lost and far apart, even if the group is pressed uncomfortably close.

And just a few paces in front of him, Jaebum sees Jinyoung glance back over his shoulder at him. Eyes wide, questioning.

Jaebum reaches around the manager between them, and strokes gently down the nape of Jinyoung’s neck. It’s light, glancing. Some photos might not have caught it, and those who did probably think he’s just teasing.

But Jinyoung glances back at him again, and while his cheek is pink under the edges of his mask, he still looks curious, concerned.

He’s looking out for Jaebum, making sure they don’t get too far apart.

Chest bursting with grateful warmth, Jaebum fails to hold back a smile when he meets Jinyoung’s eyes again. Now the crowd has all clogged together too tight at the edge of a crosswalk, and Jinyoung finally looks relieved. Certain of his presence.

Jaebum reaches out one more time, and this time he traces his finger in a specific, looping shape atop Jinyoung’s shoulderblade.

It’s an infinity symbol, and it’s his promise. 

Always.

//

  
  



End file.
